What Gladys Saw 




"THE LITTLE LADY FLEW TO THE BROAD SILL TO INVESTIGATE" 



What Gladys Saw 



A Nature Story of Farm and Forest 



BY 

FRANCES MARGARET FOX 

AUTHOR OF "FARMER BROWN AND THE BIRDS' 



ILLUSTRATED BY 
CHARLES COPELAND 




W. A. WILDE COMPANY 
BOSTON AND CHICAGO 






THE LIBRARY OF 

CONGRESS, 
T»v^ Cow** Received 

WAY, 22 1902 

Copyright entry 

CLASS C^XXc No. 

COPY B. 



Copyright, iqo2, 

By W. A. Wilde Company. 

All rights reserved. 



What Gladys Saw. 




DEDICATION 

To the many children who have been under 
my care and teaching, this book is lovingly 
dedicated by the author. 



Contents 



4 



CHAPTER 




PAGE 


I. 


The Robin's Surprise .... 


II 


11. 


The Coming of Gladys 


18 


III. 


Getting acquainted with Aunt Rebecca 


3i 


IV. 


Her Father's Own Folks . 


4i 


V. 


A Hero in Rags 


52 


VI. 


The Thinking Corner .... 


61 


VII. 


How Gladys set the Fashion . 


67 


VIII. 


A Long Sunday 


72 


IX. 


An Evening Sermon .... 


77 


X. 


Studying a Monarch . 


83 


XI. 


" Daughters of Noon 11 


99 


XII. 


The Robin's Neighbors 


107 


XIII. 


A Sparrow Story .... 


. 118 


XIV. 


Wild Ones by the Way 


125 


XV. 


Gladys writes to her Mother . 


137 


XVI. 


A Few Questions 


. 141 


XVII. 


A Bit of Color ..... 


• 147 


XVIII. 


A Tragedy 


■ 154 


XIX. 


Meeting the Enemy .... 


. 168 


XX. 


Meadow Folks 


172 


XXI. 


Ted Bennet's Revenge 


177 


XXII. 


Mr. Birney signs a Paper . 


187 


XXIII. 


An Unsuspected Talent 
7 


190 



8 



CONTENTS 



CHAPTER 

XXIV. Gifts and their Obligations . 

XXV. Gladys reports to her Mother 

XXVI. The Story of the Silver Fox 

XXVII. Crickets and Pond Folks 

XXVIII. ftoLES IN THE GROUND 

XXIX. How the Katydid went Calling 

XXX. Mary Ellen's Wedding . 

XXXI. Gladys explains Matters 

XXXII. The Book of Common Things . 

XXXIII. Baby Tumble-Bug's First Journey . 

XXXIV. A Lazy Fellow in Blue . 
XXXV. Jack discovers the Yellowbirds' Home 

XXXVI. Interviewing the Goldenrods 

XXXVII. Gladys writes to her Grandfather 

XXXVIII. The Red Squirrel on Saturday 

XXXIX. The Way Home 



PAGE 
208 
214 

221 
229 

237 
247 
257 
264 
269 
277 
285 
288 
295 
298 
307 
313 



Illustrations 



PAGE 

" The little lady flew to the broad sill to investigate " 

Frontispiece 1 1 

"'That's Jennie Wren'" 42 

" ' Oh, you funny buzzing bee , " . . . . 131 

u i What a little beauty it is ? " 174 

u The greedy fellow ate all the food that was brought to 

the nest n ........ 290 



WHAT GLADYS SAW 



" A lover of nature ?iever takes a walk without perceiving 
something new and interesting." 

— John Burroughs. 



oXKo 



CHAPTER I 

THE ROBIN'S SURPRISE 

HERE was commotion in the old 
farm-house. The robin was not 
only puzzled but somewhat alarmed 
by it. Season after season she 
had built her nest in an apple tree 
within reach of an upper-story window, with- 
out fear of being disturbed. 

On this particular June morning the little 
dormer window had been thrown open with 
energy — an act without precedent within the 
robin's memory. In apparent curiosity, the 
little lady flew to the broad sill to investigate. 
Her chirp of amazement when she saw a 
woman in the room met with a ready response. 

11 




12 WHAT GLADYS SAW 

" Well, I declare ! Did you ever see any- 
thing like that — the very birds of the air walk 
right in ! " 

The robin was in a great flutter ; but as the 
woman made no attempt to approach the win- 
dow, she held her ground, possibly determined 
to see all she could. 

" Suppose you think you've a better right 
here than I have," continued the stranger; 
"but I am Richard Birney's aunt, though I 
haven't been in this house for eight years. 
Eight years ! It doesn't seem so long since 
Richard's wife took the children and left. 
Not that I ever blamed her — the neighbors 
did that. 

" Dear me ! I haven't any more notion how 
to begin here than a rabbit. Spiders, dust — 
dirt — I don't wonder Richard asked me to 
come over and get this room ready for Gladys. 
Mrs. Bennet wouldn't have known which way 
to turn. Poor woman ! it isn't likely she knows 
how dainty a little girl's room ought to be any- 
way, living as she does in a speck of a house, 
with nobody knows how many children to keep 
things all cluttered up. 

" I don't see how she's managed to do so 



THE ROBIN'S SURPRISE 13 

much work for Richard all these years — his 
washing and baking and house-cleaning. Pre- 
sume she felt, though, that as long as her hus- 
band was working on the farm, and they were 
living in a house of Richard's, she ought to 
help him all she could, though as I look at it, 
he doesn't deserve any comforts of a home. 
He ought to be made to live in a dug-out in 
the woods ; guess that would suit him too well, 
though. 

" This used to be his room when he was a 
little boy. Doesn't seem long since brother 
Jacob built this house — after the old house 
was burned to the ground. Built it contrary 
to the advice of all his relations and the neigh- 
bors, way back from the road, with the front 
door facing the river. Why would he do it? 
The very idea of putting the barn where the 
house ought to be ! Well, they said Jacob was 
eccentric ; but I don't know what excuse could 
be made for Richard, though I do know that it's 
never been said among the neighbors that he 
takes after his Aunt Rebecca. 

" Well, I guess I'll dust everything here and 
put it in the room across the hall. Helen was 
a good housekeeper, and everything in this 



14 WHAT GLADYS SAW 

closet seems to be just as she left it, — all in 
perfect order, but covered with dust. 

" These hooks are too high ; the child could 
never hang up her own clothes. I'll ask Rich- 
ard to change them. 

11 There ! I must go to work ! " 

Aunt Rebecca's decision was followed by 
such sudden activity that the robin flew away. 

But a few days before, the last fledgling of 
the robin's first brood had followed its father 
to the woods and she had given her attention 
to the repair of the nest. It was a good nest, 
strong and well made ; yet the robin feared that 
it must be abandoned. 

There was something startling in the pres- 
ence of Aunt Rebecca, something in striking 
contrast with the gentle, quiet ways of the man 
of whom the robin knew no fear. It had never 
been his way to rush madly about the house, 
nor, indeed, had he ever been known to rush 
at all — a fact appreciated by all the wild things 
on the farm. 

The robin wasted the greater part of the 
morning in hopping anxiously about the apple 
tree, and peeping in at the dormer window. 
Finally, Mr. Birney came up the stairs, and 



; 



THE ROBIN'S SURPRISE 15 

seeing the robin on the sill, he began talking 
with her, as was his custom. 

Aunt Rebecca was nowhere in sight. 

" Good morning, madam, good morning," said 
he, " trust you will pardon all this intrusion, 
but I am preparing for a visitor, and I want 
you to help me entertain. First time, since 
long before you were a nestling, madam, that 
this window has ever been opened. All I ask 
of you is to furnish music occasionally. I 
would like to have you practise up your 
rainy-day song, for instance. There is nothing 
finer than that when it is rendered in style." 

" Fiddlesticks ! " ejaculated Aunt Rebecca, 
emerging from the closet and flourishing her 
broom in a threatening manner behind her 
nephew. 

" Pardon me, Aunt Rebecca," said he. " I 
wanted to know what you think of the room ; 
that is, can it be made to look as it should — 
kind of womanish — so that it will please her, 
I mean." 

" It is hard to tell," replied Aunt Rebecca, 
" children in these days aren't so easily pleased 
as they used to be ; but surely it is a pretty 
room, bright and cheery, and when it is per- 



16 WHAT GLADYS SAW 

fectly clean, I think it ought to please any 
little girl." 

" You know best how a little girl would like 
things," replied the man ; " I don't understand 
their tastes very well myself," and with these 
words he walked away. 

Aunt Rebecca stood shaking her head until 
the sound of his footsteps died in the distance. 

" Shouldn't think he did understand, nor try 
to. A man so selfish and queer should have 
been a frog in the first place. I haven't any 
patience with him. Had the sweetest, bright- 
est wife in the country and tried to bury her 
out here. Wouldn't take her anywhere, not 
even to the neighbors — didn't want company, 
always had his nose in a book in the house, 
and an old microscope in his hand outdoors. 
Helen was right — the children would have 
been worse than heathen Chinese if they had 
stayed here. 

" Richard may be a scholar and all that, as 
some folks pretend, but I call him up and 
down selfish and shiftless. Look at the way 
he has let this farm go to rack and ruin, and he 
spending his time in the swamp and woods and 
the fields watching squirrels and mice and such. 



THE ROBIN'S SURPRISE 17 

" If he wasn't my own nephew, I wouldn't 
care ; but as it is I can't get used to it. I would 
like to tell him just what I think." 

The robin kept at a safe distance the rest of 
the day. Not until twilight did she venture 
upon the window-sill again. 

Whether the robin knew it or not, the room 
suggested peace and comfort. There were the 
two low windows draped in white ; one over- 
looking the broad river, the other the orchards. 
There was the old-fashioned wall paper, with 
its wreaths of wild roses. In a plain oaken 
frame was an old-time print of the Saviour 
blessing little children. The painted floor was 
bare, except for a bit of rag carpet laid before 
the bed, itself gay in patchwork-quilt attire. 

In the orchard the robin sung her sweetest 
song until the day was done and darkness 
hushed the evening chorus of the birds. 

Perhaps she knew the little nest was safe. 




CHAPTER II 

THE COMING OF GLADYS 

UNT REBECCA not only offered 
to get dinner and do some extra 
baking the day Gladys was ex- 
pected, but insisted so strongly 
upon it that Richard Birney's cour- 
teous protest went for naught. She came 
early in the morning and took possession of 
the kitchen. 

Mr. Birney kept at a distance. He felt that 
Aunt Rebecca, with a rolling-pin in her hand, 
was a person to be feared as well as respected. 
Walking through the hall on his way to the 
sitting room, he paused for a moment to listen, 
then went on his way thankful that the scold- 
ings of that well-intentioned woman were di- 
rected to the inanimate things, the wood box 
and the kitchen pump, where they fell harmless. 
Mr. Birney closed the door of the sitting 
room behind him with expressive firmness. 

18 



THE COMING OF GLADYS 19 

He didn't know that Aunt Rebecca was mak- 
ing a layer cake of wondrous size to please his 
little girl, nor could he have dreamed of the 
surprise she was preparing in the way of sugar 
cookies. 

Every year Aunt Rebecca furnished cookies 
for the Sunday-school Christmas tree in the vil- 
lage — cookies that were the delight and won- 
der of childish hearts. They were cut in the 
shape of animals, birds, and stars, frosted and 
sprinkled with tiny candies. 

Never before had Aunt Rebecca used her 
famous cookie patterns except at Christmas 
time. It was an honor sure to win the heart of 
Gladys. 

While Aunt Rebecca worked and talked 
energetically to herself, according to a life-long 
custom, her nephew, in the sitting room, read 
aloud snatches of a letter. 

" Gladys, of course, has no memory of you, 
having been scarcely two years old when we 
came away." 

The man frowned. 

" It has never been my desire to separate you 
and the children, and the time has come when 
it seems best for Gladys to be with you. She 



20 WHAT GLADYS SAW 

talks of her father constantly. In school she is 
far ahead of children of her age so that an ab- 
sence of a year will do her no harm. The boys 
must be kept in school ; but if you wish, I will 
send Gladys to you, and you may let her stay 
as long as you think best. 

" The child is a great deal like you in many 
ways, and I believe she will love the old farm 
and be contented and happy there." 

The frown deepened. Mr. Birney walked the 
floor until Aunt Rebecca reminded him that it 
was time to drive to the village to meet Gladys. 

His appearance at the station was greeted by 
stares. 

" Carculate you're expectin' on meetin' some 
one," ventured a neighbor, who sauntered out 
of the waiting room to watch him tie his horse. 

" Trust none of us will be disappointed, " re- 
plied Mr. Birney, repressing a smile. 

" Reckon disappointment ain't a thing we're a 
stranger to, none of us," retorted the neighbor. 
" S'pose you know the train's half an hour 
behind time, eh ? " 

" No, I didn't know it ; are you sure ? " 

" Sartin sure, ticket agent said so. Be you 
expectin' — " 



THE COMING OF GLADYS 21 

11 Half an hour, half an hour," interrupted 
Richard Birney, " I can be back in twenty min- 
utes." And he straightway left his fellow-men 
to think and say what they would, while he, for 
the first time that season, went forth to visit a 
colony of bank swallows, old friends of his. 

He found them easily enough, where he had 
known them when a boy. He no longer felt 
the old-time desire to look into each nest in the 
river bank — but threw himself upon the ground 
beneath a tree, where he could watch the busy 
birds and enjoy the music of their cheerful 
twitterings. 

They were such a happy lot in their modest 
suits of brownish gray and white. 

The man forgot the flight of time in the de- 
light of their presence. As a boy he wondered 
what they talked about through the long summer 
days, and now he thought he knew. He was 
sure they w r ere chattering of domestic affairs ; 
of the tiny white eggs in the grass-lined nests 
at the end of the tunnels ; of prosaic matters — 
like the food supply and the advantages of com- 
munity life. As in days long past, he watched 
the birds flying in wide circles through the air, 
and felt an ever new amazement that each 



22 WHAT GLADYS SAW 

returning bird should know its own front door 
among so many exactly similar. 

When an hour had passed too swiftly, the 
man thought of Gladys. He rose then and 
walked rapidly to the station, in dread of meet- 
ing a tear-stained, reproachful little face. Gladys 
was scarcely a welcome guest, but her father 
meant to show her every courtesy as became a 
gentleman. 

The child was not in the waiting room nor 
anywhere in sight. The station agent sat in 
the office, reading. 

" Pardon me, sir," said the man, " but can 
you tell me whether or not a little girl got off 
the train ? " 

The station agent was careful not to reply 
with undue haste. He continued his reading 
with patience until the question was repeated. 

" Oh, that you, Birney ? Yes, yes, a little 
girl did come — she looked forsaken until the 
neighbors asked some questions and found out 
who she was. When they told her that was 
your horse and buggy out there she would 
have her baggage put right in the buggy, 
and — " 

" Where is she now ? " asked Mr. Birney, 



THE COMING OF GLADYS 23 

" gone with some of the village folks, I 
suppose." 

"Not much," laughed the agent; "they 
wanted to take her, but she wouldn't go ; 
said, * No, thank you, she'd wait for her father.' 
She's right down the mill road there, happy 
as you please." 

The agent returned to his book while Mr. 
Birney continued his search. He had gone 
but a little way from the station when he 
heard the merriest kind of a laugh ; down the 
mill road, in a flood of sunshine stood a little 
girl, intently watching something in the shrub- 
bery. 

" What is it, Gladys ? " called her father. 

" Funny caterpillars," replied the child, run- 
ning to meet him and kissing him, as though 
all fathers must be kissed whether they ex- 
pected it or not. 

" How do you know who I am ? " asked the 
man, recovering his breath. 

" Oh, you look just like your pictures, only 
nicer; and besides that, who would say 4 Gladys' 
that kind of a way cept your own father." 

It was pleasant to be regarded with the 
approval expressed by the child's face. 



24 WHAT GLADYS SAW 

" Well, sis, we would better be jogging on, 
I guess," remarked her father. 

" Oh, but, papa, do come and see these 
caterpillars. I never saw any like them before 
— now look ! There's a whole family of them 
and see how they go — jerking their heads 
from side to side and keeping time as though 
maybe they could hear a band playing some- 
where. How do they know enough to keep 
together like that — our teacher in school says, 
'left, right, left, right,' to make us keep step, 
and then we don't always do it ; but these cater- 
pillars, — why first all their heads go right, all 
the time, and nobody makes them. What are 
they anyway ? " 

" They are caterpillars of the Mourning 
Cloak," replied the man, " and that peculiar 
habit is their way of scaring their enemies." 

" Oh," acknowledged Gladys, " they are the 
queerest caterpillars I ever saw. Can't we 
stay and watch 'em a while longer? I'm afraid 
I'll never see any more like them." 

" We might stay as well as not, Gladys," 
assented her father, "but our Aunt Rebecca 
offered to get dinner to-day in honor of my little 
guest, and we ought not to keep her waiting, 
had we ? " 



THE COMING OF GLADYS 25 

" Oh, no," agreed Gladys ; " but who is our 
Aunt Rebecca — mamma never told me about 
her." 

" In the first place, Gladys, Aunt Rebecca is 
our nearest neighbor. She was my father's 
youngest sister ; that makes her my aunt and 
your great-aunt." 

" Oh, good ! " put in Gladys, " is she pretty ? " 

" She was pretty once, sis, when I was a 
little boy, but she has worked too hard." 

" Oh, is she poor ? " 

The man laughed. " No, Aunt Rebecca has 
never been considered poor," he continued ; 
"her husband is a well-to-do farmer." 

" Then what makes her work too hard ? " 

11 What made your father watch bank swal- 
lows so long he missed meeting his little 
Gladys this morning ? " retorted the man. 

" Same thing that made me watch cater- 
pillars, I guess," laughed the child. " We all 
want to do what comes in our minds." 

How the village folks and the country folks 
along the way did stare when Gladys and her 
father drove home. It seemed incredible that 
Richard Birney was talking and laughing with 
a child. 



26 WHAT GLADYS SAW 

Said Gladys : " But I do so want to know 
about caterpillars. Now why do some cater- 
pillars go so slow, slow, and some caterpillars 
go so fast ? I would like to know the reason." 

Said her father: "It is like this, Gladys: 
caterpillars always try to hide themselves; they 
usually feed at night and do their best to keep 
out of sight in the daytime. Most of them 
never move except on their way to new feeding 
grounds, and then some of them think to escape 
notice by crawling slowly along, and others 
move as quickly as possible for the same reason." 

" Oh ! " 

" During the daytime many caterpillars 
hide themselves on the under surface of a 
leaf; others trust to the colors they wear for 
protection. Striped caterpillars, for instance, 
stretch themselves out on grass blades and 
stems ; brownish ones drop to the ground." 

" And, oh, papa," interrupted the child, " did 
you ever see caterpillars curl all up and drop 
quick when you scare em just a little bit?" 

11 Certainly, that is one of the habits of but- 
terfly caterpillars." 

" Don't all caterpillars turn into butterflies ? " 
protested Gladys. 



THE COMING OF GLADYS 27 

" Why, no," replied her father; " didn't you 
ever hear of moth caterpillars? " 

" Oh, that's so, I forgot. When I see cater- 
pillars, papa, I always wonder what their names 
are, and what kind of flying things they are 
going to turn into — what color their wings will 
be, and all about it. Caterpillars do so many 
queer things, and did you ever see how they 
act when they get mad? — no, I mean angry. 
They shake their heads and snap at you. I 
never saw a caterpillar smile, they always look 
ferocious in the face, and I wouldn't touch one 
anyway, would you? Now w r hat makes them 
have such thick fur ? " 

" Because their bodies are warmer than the 
surrounding air, and the fur, as you call it, 
though ' pile ' is the correct term, prevents the 
too rapid escape of the heat." 

" Oh, that's it. Another thing, papa, I be- 
lieve caterpillars could make spider-webs if 
they wanted to ; they w r ork and work, and seem 
to make zigzag ladders on leaves." 

" That's right, Gladys, exactly, they do spin 
ladders of silk upon which to tread ; otherwise 
they would easily lose their hold upon the 
leaves, especially when the wind blows. The 



28 WHAT GLADYS SAW 

caterpillars you thought so strange, though 
caterpillars of the Mourning Cloak are com- 
mon enough, spin wherever they go, making 
carpets, in fact, over which they crawl swiftly. 
Many caterpillars make nests — did you ever 
see one ? " 

" Never heard of a caterpillar's nest, papa; tell 
me about them." 

" You can find some easily enough any day, 
Gladys, if you use your eyes, and it is better to 
see one nest than to hear about forty." 

" Yes, but, papa, maybe I wouldn't know if I 
did find one. What do they look like, and w 7 hy 
do caterpillars make nests ? Do all caterpillars 
have nests ? " 

" No, child, not all caterpillars, and the ones 
that do, wish to hide themselves. Some cater- 
pillars make nests on the surface of leaves, in 
which they rest after every meal. Another 
kind fastens the edges of a leaf together by the 
silk it spins, and doesn't leave the nest until it 
has eaten it and has to make another. Some 
caterpillars fold over part of a big leaf ; others 
draw several small leaves together, fastening 
them with the silk. The caterpillars that feed 
on grasses make their nests of blades of grass." 



THE COMING OF GLADYS 29 

" Oh, papa, I remember now ; once I found a 
plant by the roadside most all eaten up, and it 
was full of caterpillars and dead leaves and 
cobwebs. I poked it with a stick." 

" Then, Gladys, you have seen a caterpillar s 
nest. There are caterpillars that live together 
in just such a fashion, covering an entire plant 
with their webs. You must have made a sad 
disturbance among them with your stick, be- 
cause they intended to stay there all winter, 
and not come out until spring." 

" Well, their nest wasn't a bit nice, and they 
must have been horrid caterpillars to live in 
such a mix-up. If I were a caterpillar and had 
to stay in one place all winter, I'd make me a 
nice, clean, little house." 

Gladys's father laughed and shook his head. 

" You would probably be a caterpillar of the 
Viceroy, then," he said. 

"What kind is that?" 

11 Oh, sort of an Aunt Rebecca caterpillar," 
continued the man, " good housekeeper, neat 
and particular. Its winter home is made of a 
willow leaf. It begins at the tip of a leaf and 
eats about one-third of it, leaving the midrib. 
You know what that is, Gladys, the back bone 



30 WHAT GLADYS SAW 

of the leaf. Then it brings the edges of what 
is left of the leaf together, fastening them with 
silk. After this the caterpillar covers its house, 
inside and out, with brown silk. It then spins 
more silk, with which to fasten the leaf to the 
stalk, so that neither frost nor wind can loosen 
it." 

" Papa, why doesn't it bite off the — what do 
you call it — the midrib of the leaf, I mean ?" 

" Because, Gladys, when everything is ready, 
the caterpillar creeps along the midrib into its 
dark house, head first, and there it sleeps until 
spring, safe as any caterpillar can be." 

" Have we any willow trees on our farm, 
papa ? " 

" Plenty of them down by the river. Why ? " 

" Then I guess, if you don't care, I'll stay 
here next winter. There isn't anything worth 
seeing in town in the winter, when you go to 
walk, you just see houses and store windows." 

" Poor Gladys," laughed her father. 

Aunt Rebecca, when she saw the truants 
coming, wondered, as did the neighbors, what 
they were talking about. 




CHAPTER III 

GETTING ACQUAINTED WITH AUNT REBECCA 

IUNT REBECCA'S face was pleas- 
ant to look upon when she saw 
Gladys. 

" The dear little girl," she com- 
mented, giving the child a hug 
that surprised her father. She had never 
treated him in that fashion. Aunt Rebecca 
disapproved of the father of Gladys when he 
was a little boy, and she seemed never to real- 
ize that he had outgrown his childhood. 

" Favors her mother," continued Aunt Re- 
becca, straightening her apron and adjusting 
her spectacles. " Only her hair is yellow. 
Well, likely as not her mother's hair was that 
same color when she was her age. Her cheeks 
aren't red enough, but they will be soon, out 
here in the country. She's a little mite, it 
seems to me. Now my girls, Jane and Mary 
Ellen, were twice as big . as she is when they 
were her age. 

31 



32 WHAT GLADYS SAW 



y S ? 



" Want to get washed up, don't you, Glady 
Just step this way, out on the back porch. On 
the wash bench there you'll find a basin of 
water on purpose for you. A body gets so 
dirty travelling. 

" What did you say ? A toad out on the 
back steps? Well, it won't hurt you, and 
hurry now, Gladys, dinner's all ready. What 
do toads eat ? Oh, fiddlesticks ! What differ- 
ence does it make what toads eat? I know 
what men and women and children eat, and 
that's all that concerns anybody. Here, here's 
the towel in the kitchen. 

" Yes, that's a honeysuckle there by that 
window ; this house is overgrown with green 
stuff. Wonderful bird, there, you say ? Oh, 
nonsense ! that's nothing but a humming-bird, 
common as daylight. No, I don't know how 
it makes its wings go so fast. Where do they 
build their nests ? Don't ask me, I haven't 
had any time in my busy life to bother about 
such things. What difference does it make ? 

" Trot along in the dining room now, Gladys. 
Do you wear bibs at home ? You don't ? You 
have a napkin ? Oh, I think you're too small 
for a napkin ; I'll make you some pretty bibs — 



AUNT REBECCA 33 

my girls wore bibs. You may sit there, oppo- 
site your father. Richard, you ask the blessing." 

It was useless to protest. The golden head 
across the table was bowed ; the dimpled hands 
were folded. Aunt Rebecca had managed better 
than she knew. Gladys's father always asked a 
blessing after that, as did his father before him. 

Aunt Rebecca poured the tea, and her 
nephew waited on the table as though dinner 
parties in the old farm-house were of frequent 
occurrence. They made no more ado about 
the position in which they found themselves 
than did the old-fashioned blue dishes, fresh 
from their eight years 5 rest in the china closet. 

Gladys, unconscious of anything unusual in 
the atmosphere, tried to behave like a lady, as 
she had been instructed to do before leaving 
her mother. She replied to all Aunt Rebecca s 
questionings with a promptness that won the 
good woman's approval. 

" Does your mother keep hired help in the 
house to do your cooking and such ? " 

11 Oh, no. We've always lived with grandpa 
and grandma, and they have a cook and two 
housemaids and a man." 

" Is your grandma feeble ? " 



34 WHAT GLADYS SAW 

" No, she's real fashionable ; she goes out to 
drive and she goes calling — and she powders." 

" Gladys, you aren't telling me that that old 
lady with one foot in the grave puts powder on 
her face ! " 

" No, no, Aunt Rebecca, her feet are all 
right, but she powders ; and she looks almost as 
pretty as mamma sometimes." 

" Well, powderin's a sin ; hope you'll never 
do it, Gladys. I don't want any blood relation 
of mine to powder." 

" Grandma belongs to the church," protested 
Gladys. 

" Oh, that doesn't count in the city," sniffed 
Aunt Rebecca, " city churches are mostly for 
show. Now, out here in the country, belong- 
ing to the church means something. You go 
to meeting, don't you, Gladys ? " 

" Oh, yes, Aunt Rebecca, every Sunday." 

" Our folks'll drive around and take you with 
us." 

" Oh, thank you, Aunt Rebecca, but I'm go- 
ing with my father.' 

11 Oh, you are ! Well, if he doesn't happen 
to go next Sabbath, you are welcome to go with 
us and have dinner at our house." 






AUNT REBECCA 35 

Gladys's father smiled at the platter. He had 
not been inside the village church since Gladys 
was a baby, as Aunt Rebecca well knew. 

" How's your grandpa; is he real spry ? " 

11 Oh, I guess he never was exactly spry, 
Aunt Rebecca." 

" Old gentleman is feeble, is he ? " 

" Oh, my, no. He's a great man — my 
grandfather — he makes speeches and the 
people cheer. He looks kind of sober, but 
mamma says that's because he's so wise and 
has to think about important things all the 
time. He's got a gold-headed cane, too, and 
you mustn't touch it. 

11 Say, Aunt Rebecca, did you ever see a 
caterpillar with horns and a tail ? " 

11 Fiddlesticks! no. It isn't mannerly to talk 
of such things at the table. Is your grand- 
father always hunting up caterpillars when he 
goes out to walk ? " 

" Oh, dear, no." 

" Are you fond of him ? " 

" Why, Aunt Rebecca, he's my relation ! 
You always love your relations, don't you, papa? " 

" Pass your plate, Gladys, and let papa give 
you some more chicken." 



36 WHAT GLADYS SAW 

" Oh, no, thank you, I don't want anything 
more on my plate, because I want to see the 
pictures on it. I thought I never could eat 
through to the pictures.' ' 

In the afternoon Aunt Rebecca took Gladys 
to her room and helped her unpack her 
trunk. 

" Now, Gladys," said she, "you have surely 
been taught to have a place for everything and 
everything in its place. Now we'll hang your 
gingham dresses on these hooks, and your best 
dresses right here — you have four best dresses, 
you say! Well, well! In my day a little girl 
was lucky if her best dress was as pretty as 
one of your ginghams." 

" Did you ever have a silk dress when you 
were a little girl, Aunt Rebecca ? " 

u No, indeed; have you a silk dress, Gladys?" 
There was a tone of reproach in Aunt Rebecca's 
voice. 

" No," replied the child; u but I've always 
wanted one. Mamma says they are not appro- 
priate for me ; but I know some girls that wear 
silk dresses, and I think they look real 'propri- 
ate." 

" Your mother has good sense," said Aunt 



AUNT REBECCA 37 

Rebecca, nodding her head in approval. " It's 
poor taste to put silks on little girls." 

The dolls in Gladys's trunk put in their ap- 
pearance; one by one, to the astonishment of 
Aunt Rebecca. She had never seen so many 
together outside of a store. 

" Who made your dolls such beautiful 
dresses ? " she asked. 

" Made them myself. See, Aunt Rebecca, 
this box is full of ribbons and scraps of silk 
and things to make doll clothes of." 

u Do you play with all these dolls, Gladys ? " 

11 Yes, every one," replied the child, wonder- 
ing why Aunt Rebecca sighed, and then seemed 
to lose all interest in dolls. 

"Remember, Gladys," she cautioned, "that 
a ' stitch in time saves nine,' and whenever 
your clothes need mending, sit right down and 
sew them up. You are too young to be away 
from your mother; but I presume she knew 
how willingly I would help you keep yourself 
in order. And be sure you don't put on your 
Sunday clothes on week days. You can run 
over 'cross lots any time you want to see me, 
too." 

Everything in the room was finally arranged 



38 WHAT GLADYS SAW 






to the satisfaction of Aunt Rebecca, and she 
and Gladys went downstairs, where they spent 
the rest of the afternoon getting acquainted 
with each other. Aunt Rebecca, knitting as 
she talked, told Gladys stories of her childhood, 
and delightful stories they were. 

"Gladys," said she, at last, "there were once 
two little girls. One had a great many dolls 
and the other never owned one. The little 
girl who had the dolls was a healthy, happy 
child who could run and play all clay long, if 
she wanted to. The other was a cripple ; a 
child who had been sick all her life." 

" Why didn't the well child give the sick 
child one of her dolls?" interrupted Gladys. 

" Probably because she didn't know about 
the sick child," replied Aunt Rebecca. "This 
little cripple lives on your father's farm, Gladys ; 
she can't walk a step and never has, though she 
is as old as you. She is a patient little thing, 
I never knew her to complain ; but her folks 
are poor, and I just found out this morning 
that she never had a doll and has always 
wanted one." 

Without listening for another word, Gladys 
flew up the stairs, returning with a bisque doll. 



AUNT REBECCA 39 

" Take her, Aunt Rebecca, take her," she 
cried ; " this doll's my very own because I 
bought her with my own money. Grandpa 
gave me five dollars for having the highest 
standing in my class at school — and this doll 
goes to sleep and has real hair — her name is 
Rosalind Marie, and I w r ant you to take her to 
that poor little girl." 

There were tears in Aunt Rebeccas eyes as 
she watched the child's earnest face. 

" A little doll will do just as well, Gladys," 
she said, " even better, because this is too large 
to be handled easily. One of your tiniest dolls 
would be a treasure to a child who has never 
even held one for a minute." 

11 What is the little girl's name ? " asked 
Gladys. 

" Nora Bennet." 

" Is she pretty ? " 

11 No, not a bit." 

" Has she any brothers and sisters ? " 

" Yes, six brothers and one sister." 

" Are they pretty ? " 

11 No, nor even clean half the time." 

Aunt Rebecca had great difficulty in per- 
suading Gladys to send one of the little dolls 



40 WHAT GLADYS SAW 

to Nora, in place of her dearest Rosalind 
Marie. 

On her way home after supper, Aunt Re- 
becca made a few remarks to the night wind as 
she walked. 

" I'll send Mary Ellen right back in the 
morning, if I can spare her, to tell Gladys how 
delighted that poor little Nora was with the 
doll and the animal cookies. I ought to be 
ashamed of myself. I never would have 
thought of sending cookies to that poor little 
scrap of humanity. 

"Well, I'm proud of that little Gladys. I 
was afraid that she'd see that I approved of 
her. I wanted to tell her that she's the most 
unselfish child I ever saw, but I wouldn't; 
it isn't right to spoil children. She isn't a bit 
like Richard. There he sat all through supper- 
time, mum as a mouse. I don't see how a talk- 
ative child like Gladys will ever get along with 
him, and be contented. I am going to show 
her pretty face to the neighbors, first chance I 
get." 




CHAPTER IV 

HER FATHER'S OWN FOLKS 

?APA, what are those pretty birds? 
They seem to know you and 
the horses and cows, and me, too, 
I guess. I am sure they're say- 
ing in their little twitter, ' Glad 
to see you, glad to see you.' " 

" Those are my — our barn swallows, Gladys." 
u Do the swallows live on our farm, papa ? 
Where are their homes ? " 

"You watch them a few minutes, Gladys, 
and when we go in the barn, I'll show you their 
nests." 

It was a perfect morning. The birds them- 
selves were no more delighted to be out in its 
sunshine than Gladys, who had followed her 
father's every step since they left the house. 

The child watched the swallows until a wren 
attracted her attention. 

" Oh, wait a minute, papa. Just listen to that 

41 



42 WHAT GLADYS SAW 






little bird on the fence. What is its throat made 
of ? Did you ever hear such a song ? I'm glad I 
came home if all the folks are so glad to see me. 
How can such a little bird sing so loud ! Isn't 
that the merriest song ? — and what a saucy 
little bird it is, too ! See it jerk its tail ! Papa, 
do listen ! That little bird says just as plainly, 
' Glad to see you, Gladys ; Gladys, glad to see 
you. Glad you came home, glad of it, glad of 
it,' — oh, papa, what is its name ? " 

" That's Jennie Wren, Gladys, the busiest bird 
on our farm. Her home is in a box on a pole 
near the strawberry patch." 

" Why, papa, see her watch you. She seems 
to be scolding now." 

" She is something of a scold, Gladys, but 
she never scolds Father Wren nor the children, 
so we ought to forgive her. She is a great 
worker, is Jennie Wren. She doesn't like 
callers, but I'll let you climb up a ladder and 
have a peep at her eight children." 

" Eight children, papa! I don't see how she 
can find time to sing. How can she feed so 
many ? What do they eat, anyway ? " 

" Jennie Wren can work and sing, too, 
Gladys ; and if I were a little girl, I would learn 




THAT'S JENNIE WREN' 



HER FATHER'S OWN FOLKS 43 

that lesson from her. Your father wants you 
to be a beautiful woman, and that you surely 
will be if you do what you must, cheerfully." 

" Oh, yes, I know that ; but what do the baby 
wrens eat ? " 

" They eat bugs and tiny worms, Gladys. 
Jennie Wren is after bugs now, on that rose- 
bush by the fence. See her, how carefully she 
searches among the leaves, and how quickly she 
works ? There she goes home to the nestlings." 

" She looked like a little mouse running over 
the bush," replied the child. " But, papa, isn't 
it queer to have a rose-bush in the barn-yard ? 
They don't have rose-bushes in barn-yards ! " 

" ' They,' " repeated her father. " Who are 
4 they,' Gladys?" 

" Why, ' they ' ; ' they,' that's what they ahvays 
say, just ' they.' " 

" But whom do you mean by 'they,'' per- 
sisted the man. 

M Don't you know, papa? Why, I guess ' they' 
must be everybody. Lots of times you want to 
wear things but you can't because 'they' don't. 
I can't just explain to you, but it's in my mind." 

"Well, from this time on, little daughter, you 
do your own thinking, and don't you ever ques- 



44 WHAT GLADYS SAW 

tion what l they ' will think of your actions. Jen- 
nie Wren doesn't object to the rose-bush in the 
barn-yard, and neither do we — so what differ- 
ence does it make to any one else. Then, 
again, the rose-bush has a perfect right to her 
bit of earth, because she was first planted there 
years and years ago when this spot was a front 
yard. There was once a large house about 
where the corn-crib stands, which was burned 
to the ground when your grandfather was a 
little boy. The rose must have been a beauty 
in those days, but left to itself so long, it is no 
better than a wild rose now. No one but 
Jennie Wren has ever given "it any care." 

"Why, papa, how can a wren take care of a 
rose-bush ? " 

" By keeping it free from spiders and bugs, 
Gladys. If it were not for the work of the 
birds, there wouldn't be a green thing left on 
our farm. Don't you remember what greedy 
fellows the caterpillars are ? " 

" Yes ; but surely, papa, that little wren isn't 
after caterpillars." 

" True enough, but she eats millions of but- 
terfly eggs that would become caterpillars if 
they were left to hatch ; and as she and Father 



HER FATHER'S OWN FOLKS 45 



hour, you can see what useful birds they are." 

" Even if wrens didn't do a bit of good," de- 
clared Gladys, following her father's every step, 
" I would love them for their singing. Does 
all the world love wrens, I wonder? " 

" That's a subject I never investigated, 
Gladys, though if you really want to know, we 
can find out." 

"How?" 

" By research." 

"What's that?" 

" Patiently hunting through dozens and doz- 
ens of books for information regarding the sub- 
ject you are interested in." 

11 Oh, well, I guess I don't care about re- 
search. The days haven't time enough in 
them for that. I'd rather be watching things 
grow." 

The man laughed. 

" Books are good friends, Gladys," he replied. 
" And the more you watch things grow, the 
more anxious you will be to learn all you can 
about them. Now in regard to whether or not 
all the world loves wrens, I recall the fact that 
in France the wren is known as ' the good 



46 WHAT GLADYS SAW 

God's little hen.' I also remember reading 
somewhere about the wrens in Ireland. It 
seems that more than a hundred years ago men 
and boys used to hunt wrens on Christmas day. 
They each carried two sticks ; with one, they 
beat the bushes, and with the other they killed 
the wrens when they flew out. On the follow- 
ing day, St. Stephen's Day, boys, who called 
themselves ' Wren Boys,' would each tie a bird, 
in a way I do not quite understand, Gladys, 
between two hoops which were decorated with 
ribbon. The boys would then parade the 
streets singing a song about the wren and beg- 
ging money to bury it with." 

" What made them ever do such a dreadful 
thing, papa ? " 

" No one knows with any certainty, but it 
is supposed that when the inhabitants of Ire- 
land were heathen, they worshipped the wren. 
When the Christian missionaries came, so the 
story goes, they compelled the people to kill 
wrens once a year, to show that they didn't 
believe in the old heathen religion any more. 

" I guess I am ready to go to the house, now, 
little daughter." 

" But the swallows, papa ; you said you would 






HER FATHER'S OWN FOLKS 47 

show me the swallows 1 nests. Why are they 
called swallows ? Is it because they swallow 
worms and things ? " 

" Have you seen them swallow worms ? " 
laughed the father. 

" No, I guess not. They don't feed their 
children as often as the wrens do. I haven't 
seen them do anything except fly round and 
round in the air. Why don't they come down 
after worms ? " 

" They don't want worms, Gladys. Swallows 
catch their food on the wing, devouring all 
kinds of flies and mosquitoes. Do you know 
who the Scandinavians are, Gladys ? " 

" Yes ; they are folks who live in Norway 
and Sweden. Why ? " 

" Oh, I was going to tell you the Scandi- 
navian story about how the swallow got its 
name. It is said that when the Saviour 
was crucified, the swallows flew around and 
around the cross, saying, ' svallow, svallow/ a 
Scandinavian word meaning 'console, con- 
sole.' So the bird came to be called 'sval- 
low ' or ' swallow,' the ' bird of comfort or 
consolation.' " 

The child made no comment. She followed 



48 WHAT GLADYS SAW 






her father into the barn listening with a serious 
face while he explained the habits of the swal- 
lows. He showed her their nests on the beams 
and rafters, telling her they were made of grass 
and mud, and lined with feathers. Told her all 
he remembered of the swallows' life in the air ; 
how they skim low over the ponds and fields, 
and dart swiftly through the village streets 
after insects ; pointed out their small, weak 
feet which they need only for perching ; telling 
her of their strong wings, and how they use 
their forked tails as rudders. 

Yet Gladys said nothing. She walked back- 
ward out of the barn, throwing the swallows a 
kiss as she left them. 

The next moment her mind was filled with 
the beauty of the road to the house. 

" Maple Lane, Gladys," said her father, remov- 
ing his hat as he entered the shade of the green 
archway. 

Gladys seemed to have lost the use of her 
tongue. When she recovered her speech, she 
said, " This is where I'll bring my dolls." Sat- 
isfaction expressed itself in her tones. " They 
are nice folks," she continued. 

" What, the dolls ? " questioned her father. 



HER FATHER'S OWN FOLKS 49 

11 No, the maple trees/' replied the child. 
" Where did they come from ? " 

" Your grandfather planted most of them, 
Gladys." 

" No, I didn't mean that, papa ; I mean, where 
did the first maple trees come from ? where was 
their first home? " 

11 Asia, my child, Asia. We have about nine 
different maples in America, but China and 
Japan have over thirty. Most of these trees 
are sugar maples." 

" Oh, yes, I know all about sugar maples, we 
took them once." 

" What do you mean, Gladys ? " 

" Why, we studied about them in school — 
about making sugar, I mean, and all about what 
makes maple leaves turn such pretty colors in 
the autumn. Our teacher said folks used to 
think the frost made them turn, but now men 
say that isn't so ; that if the summer has been 
rainy, so the leaves are kept full of sap, why 
then the colors are brighter in the fall ; but if 
the summer has been dry, then the colors are 
dull." 

" That's all right as far as it goes, Gladys, but 
there is a great difference in the trees them- 



50 WHAT GLADYS SAW 

selves. Right there is a silver maple tree with 
the deeply cut leaves on the long stems." 

" Where the robin is singing, papa ? the tree 
with the silvery leaves ? " 

" Yes, that is the one ; it is the first tree to 
blossom in the spring, sometimes opening its 
buds in the winter. Its foliage is never bright 
in the autumn, always a pale yellow. On the 
other side of the lane is another maple whose 
foliage is pure yellow in the autumn — the tree 
with the downy leaves, Gladys, its name is the 
ash-leaved maple." 

" Why, papa, I wouldn't call that tree a maple 
tree at all, because its leaves don't look like 
maple leaves — how do you know for sure that's 
a maple tree ? " 

" Because of its keys, Gladys ; do you see the 
drooping clusters of maple keys ? No other 
kind of tree bears such fruit." 

" Oh, that is what you call the pretty seeds 
with the wings, — keys, I never knew before. 
But, papa, the trees I think the prettiest are those 
with the red stems. Oh, those pretty red stems ! 
What do you call those maple trees, papa ? " 

" They are the red maples, Gladys, and red is 
their autumn coloring." 



HER FATHER'S OWN FOLKS 51 

" This is the first time in all my life, papa, 
that I ever knew there were different kinds of 
maple trees. I always thought that a maple 
tree was just a maple tree. Do you know the 
names of all the trees upon our farm, papa ? " 

" My little Gladys, do you know the names 
of your own folks ? " 

" Why, yes, 'cept some relation I never heard 
of. Why ? " 

" Because these beautiful trees, Gladys, and 
the trees of the old forest and swamp, and all 
the wild things living in their branches, or be- 
neath their shelter, or anywhere upon this old 
farm, are your father's own folks." 

The child was silenced. Though the birds 
along the way sung of their homes among the 
maples, though the bees welcomed her, and the 
little yellow butterflies played beneath her very 
feet, she asked no further questions. Once she 
glanced into her father's face. He seemed to 
have forgotten her, seemed to be alone. The 
child hesitated a moment, then slipped her little 
hand into his. 

So, leaving the maple lane behind them, they 
passed into the sunlight. 



CHAPTER V 



A HERO IN RAGS 




1LADYS was left to entertain her- 
self in the afternoon. Her father 
went away saying that he wouldn't 
be gone more than an hour. He 
was afraid she would cry or beg to 
go with him, and was greatly relieved when 
Gladys said she didn't mind being alone. 

The child had no intention of staying in the 
house, and ran to her room for a doll to take 
out under the trees. 

Suddenly she remembered Aunt Rebecca's 
warning about wearing Sunday clothes on 
week days. 

" I guess I'll just have a look at my Sunday 
dresses," she thought. They were so fresh and 
pretty hanging in the closet that Gladys took 
one down — a lace-trimmed white dimity. 
" I'd like to put it on," she whispered. 
The dolls only stared. 

52 



A HERO IN RAGS 53 

" I wouldn't sit down in the grass, nor get it 
dirty, and I can't see a bit of harm in dressing 
up once in a while. I'd like to walk up and 
down the maple lane in this white dress, and 
play I'm somebody going to the coronation. 
The trees and weeds and things could be just 
the common folks staring at me in the proces- 
sion. I believe I'll do it." 

Gladys began unbuttoning her dress, talking 
back to her conscience as she worked. 

" My mother didn't tell me not to wear a 
white dress this afternoon. Aunt Rebecca 
doesn't live in this house and this is a week- 
day dress anyway. I wear it on week days 
when I go to dress-up places. My father 
doesn't care what dress I put on. He hasn't 
told me what to wear. I won't put on my very 
best white petticoats because this isn't my very 
best white dress. I guess my mother'd like to 
have me dress up, and Aunt Rebecca wouldn't 
mind if she knew how careful I am going to 
be. 

" No, Josephine Antoinette, you can't go, 
because children aren't allowed in coronation 
processions." 

The doll didn't say a word ; but something 



54 WHAT GLADYS SAW 

about the expression of her face made Gladys 
feel guilty. Not that the doll stopped smiling, 
but the mother of Gladys and Aunt Rebecca 
seemed both to be looking out of her eyes. 

" You go to sleep ! " said Gladys, placing 
Josephine Antoinette on her back so suddenly 
her eyes threatened to drop out — or rather, in. 
" Now, keep your eyes closed until I come 
back." 

Josephine Antoinette had reason to be 
thankful that children weren't allowed in coro- 
nation processions. 

Scarcely had Gladys entered the maple lane 
when her knees began to tremble and her heart 
thumped violently. 

" I'll play it's a lion escaped from the zoo,'' 
she whispered, marching slowly on instead of 
retreating before it was too late. 

" Who's afraid of an old sheep, anyway ? " 

On went Gladys and on came the sheep, 
bowing as he walked. Not until Gladys w r as 
near enough to see the expression of his face 
did she think of running, and when she fled, 
the old sheep threw politeness to the winds. 
In less than a minute he had knocked poor 
Gladys down in the road. 



A HERO IN RAGS 55 

Bravery is a fine thing; but when Gladys 
faced the prospect of being killed by an old 
sheep with no one near to tell of the heroism 
with which she met her fate, she screamed and 
cried at the top of her voice. 

The old sheep liked the game and seemed 
pleased with the music. 

He would stand back to give Gladys a chance 
to get up, but it wasn't part of his plan to allow 
her to escape — down she would go again with 
her nose in the dust. She hadn't time to think of 
her dress then, but it was soon torn into shreds. 

Once the old sheep made a mistake ; he 
stopped to laugh. That gave Gladys the 
chance of her life ; she had just time to scram- 
ble to the top of an old stump before he made 
another charge. Then he stood on guard 
while she screamed for help. 

The trees and weeds and other common folks 
in the vicinity had plenty of reason to stare. 

Gladys had never felt such misery. She 
was sure she would die. After a while she 
would be too tired to keep her place on the 
stump and then the old sheep would kill her. 
He would probably eat her afterwards, and her 
father wouldn't find anything left of her but 



56 WHAT GLADYS SAW 

bones. There was one comfort, though it was 
a slim one : no one would have much to say 
about the sin of disobedience ; everybody would 
feel too sad to blame her. 

Gladys was all but hopeless when the hero 
arrived in the lane. He was dirty, freckled, and 
ragged — worst of all, he was grinning. 

" Wa n't afraid of him, was you ? " was his 
greeting. 

" Oh, boy, boy ! " begged Gladys. " Come 
and drive him away or kill him or something ! 
O dear ! O dear ! " 

11 Had you down, didn't he ? " continued the 
boy, with a broader grin. 

" Oh, hurry up, boy ; if you only knew what a 
dreadful time I've had, you'd hurry up." 

The boy, having met that same old sheep 
before, caught him by the horns. 

" Now cut for the house," he commanded. 
" Run for your life." 

Gladys was thankful to obey, but fresh terror 
seized her as the boy called out : — 

u I don't know but he'll get away, you better 
go a little faster. Oh, say ! he's a-comin', I be- 
lieve his horns are a-gettin' loose." 

" Well, I can't help it," cried Gladys, in des- 






A HERO IN RAGS 57 

peration, "if he gets me, he'll just have to — I 
can't run another step." 

The boy stopped laughing. " He can't get 
away from me, I was just a-tryin' to scare you 
a little. If you wasn't the girl that sent my 
sister a doll, I'd set him on you sure enough, 
but now I'd hold him if he was a roarin' 
lion." 

Without stopping to thank the boy, Gladys 
rushed into the house, just as Mary Ellen, cool 
and pretty, walked up the path. 

" Why, what's the matter ? " she asked, fol- 
lowing the sobbing child. 

Thankful for a sympathetic listener, Gladys 
told her story, a little at a time, between spells 
of weeping. 

Mary Ellen didn't even smile ; she waited 
until afterward when she repeated the story to 
do that. To poor Gladys she was a friend in 
need. 

" Mother's model child," she whispered to 
her rocking-chair. Then she took Gladys in 
her arms, dirt and all, kissed her and com- 
forted her, and talked as only a young lady 
would know how to talk to a little girl in deep 
distress. Such kindness had its effect on 



58 WHAT GLADYS SAW 

Gladys. In a short time she was talking and 
laughing gayly as usual. Mary Ellen's dress 
had lost some of its freshness, but its very color 
was forgotten in the course of years, while its 
owner's unselfish sympathy impressed itself 
upon the life-long memory of a child. 

Gladys loved Mary Ellen from that hour. 

" I don't believe I'm hurt much," confessed 
Gladys, searching for possible injuries, " but I 
was frightened almost to death." 

" I guess your dress was frightened quite to 
death," laughed Mary Ellen. " I think we 
would better go upstairs and take it off, and 
possibly soap and water might help your hands 
and face." 

" I presume I do look like a beggar child," 
agreed Gladys. " Who do you suppose that 
beautiful boy was ? " she continued, as Mary 
Ellen went with her up the stairs. 

" Why, I don't know, unless it was Ted 
Bennet, and he isn't exactly beautiful to 
look at." 

" Well, I guess you'd a' thought anybody was 
beautiful to look at if you'd been on that stump, 
'stead of me. Who is Ted Bennet? He must 
be a remarkably good boy." 



A HERO IN RAGS 59 

" No, he isn't even good," declared Mary 
Ellen. " He's a regular terror. His father is 
the farmer who works for your father. They 
live not far from the barns, in a house back a 
little way from the road." 

This reminded Mary Ellen of her errand. 
She told Gladys what her mother wished her 
to about Nora and the doll, and answered 
about thirty questions each minute until Gladys 
looked presentable once more. 

" This dress can never be mended in the 
world, Gladys," she remarked, examining the 
ruined dimity. 

For a moment Gladys looked truly penitent ; 
then she hung the dimity on the bedpost, re- 
peating under her breath, " A stitch in time 
saves nine." 

Mary Ellen didn't hear, but the dress looked 
so forlorn and friendless that she joined Gladys 
in a merry laugh. 

Mary Ellen made a strawberry shortcake and 
stayed to supper. She was surprised to find 
that Gladys's father could be entertaining, and 
he was surprised to find that having company 
could be so pleasant. 

" Wish we might invite Ted Bennet over 



60 WHAT GLADYS SAW 

sometime," said Gladys, when Mary Ellen had 
gone home. " That's one thing I wish." 

Her father only whistled, and Gladys some- 
how felt that she had better not invite Ted 
Bennet. 




CHAPTER VI 

THE THINKING CORNER 

|Y DEAR MAMMA: Papa says 
it is time for me to write to you 
again, and it is raining so I guess 
I will. June rains in the coun- 
try are like the music in church 
when they are taking up the contribution — 
you know it won't last long, and it is soft and 
sweet, and it is going to help somebody, and 
you like to keep still and listen to it. We 
didn't go to church last Sunday. 

11 Papa has given me a corner in his sitting 
room for my own, only I don't dare talk much, 
just think and write to you while he reads and 
studies. It is a little like being in school, only 
my father smiles back at me always. I can 
walk around, too, and sometimes I feel of all 
the books — the room is full of books. Do you 
remember the post in the middle of the room, 
that goes clear to the top ? Papa has made 

61 



62 WHAT GLADYS SAW 






book shelves around it, and they are full of 
books that everybody likes. 

" My corner has a little table in it. Papa 
sawed off the legs of a high little table on 
purpose for me, and he sawed off the legs of 
a queer little old chair, too. Aunt Rebecca 
said it was a sin to spoil furniture so ; but papa 
said he wanted me to be comfortable, and I am. 
He lets me have all the nice white paper I 
want to use, and Aunt Rebecca says that's a 
waste. I know nobody but my father would 
let me do it. 

" I asked papa once where you used to have 
your corner in this room ; and he said you 
didn't like corners, you wanted a whole city. 
Papa looked sad as anything when he said it, 
and I didn't know what to say, so I kissed him. 
Then I went back in my little corner. 

" Yesterday it rained, too, and papa told me 
to sit in my corner and think. I couldn't 
think of anything to think about, and I told 
him so. He smiled, and wrote something on 
a piece of paper; then he told me to pin it on 
the wall by my table where I could read it 
every day. He said Longfellow wrote it and 
he guessed it would make anybody think. I 



THE THINKING CORNER 63 

am going to copy it for you — maybe it will 
make you think ; I know it didn't me. All I 
could think of for a while was about what a 
comfortable father I've got. His face is so 
kind and smoothed out, and he's always happy ; 
and he's never cross, and he says I'm a com- 
fort. I know he wishes you'd come home, and 
so do I. 

" This is the verse ; I know you will like it 
because I do : — 

" ' And Nature, the old nurse, took the child upon her knee, 
Saying : " Here is a story-book thy Father has written for 

thee, 
Come wander away with me," she said, " into regions yet 

untrod, 
And read what is still unread in the manuscripts of God." ' 

" The next day : — It's raining again this 
morning. I got tired of writing yesterday so 
I played go calling. I went to see Julius 
Caesar and George Washington and the Napo- 
leons, all in the low bookcases, you know, and 
had lots of fun without making a bit of noise. 
I played travel, too. Books are the countries 
I visit. When I went to Mexico, I played 
4 Prescott's Conquest of Mexico, was Mexico 
itself, and I looked at pictures — the read- 



64 WHAT GLADYS SAW 

ing is too hard. When I play travel, I take a 
few of my dolls. 

" I should think papa would call this room a 
library. Grandpa's library hasn't nearly so 
many books in it, and he told me they cost so 
much children mustn't touch them. Papa says 
this room was the sitting room when he was a 
little boy ; and when he got to be a man, he kept 
buying books and buying books, until now the 
room is the nicest one I was ever in, except my 
little bedroom here. 

" Everything in this dear old house means 
something. The pictures are pictures about 
something, and the chairs are all solid, — you 
wouldn't have to watch the boys all the time 
for fear they would break one. I will never 
forget how Tom broke grandma's little gold 
chair in the parlor; she told him he ought 
to have known better than to sit in it. And 
papa says the first chilly day we'll have fires in 
both the fireplaces. He says they were made 
to build fires in, and he doesn't mind if they 
do make a little dust. He would have planted 
pop-corn if he had known I was coming. 

11 Next day : — It stopped raining and the 
sun came out yesterday morning, so I went out 






THE THINKING CORNER 65 

ind played on the lawn barefooted. That's 
fhy I didn't get my letter finished. 

" The red-headed woodpeckers wake me 
every morning ; they have a nest in an old 
oak tree near my window, and how they do 
hammer and hammer. I like to watch them, 
but I never could love a red-headed wood- 
pecker if I tried. 

" Some robins have a nest in an apple tree, 
and they are the dearest birds I ever saw. 
The mother robin hops right on my window- 
sill sometimes before I am out of bed, and I 
don't hardly dare breathe for fear she'll fly 
away. There are four eggs in the nest, the 
prettiest blue I ever saw. When I first came, 
I left a doll's sash on the window-sill, — a little 
narrow red ribbon, — and that robin got it and 
put it in her nest. She watched me all the 
time she was weaving it in, too ; but I was as 
happy as anything because she had it. 

" The first night I was here I had a dreadful 
scare. I heard a roaring noise in the chimney 
that frightened me, so I called papa. When 
he came, he told me I heard chimney swallows. 
Did you ever hear of them, mamma? He says 
they aren't really swallows, but swifts, and 



66 WHAT GLADYS SAW 

belong to the same family the whippoorwills 
do. I hear a whippoorwill every night. 
Whippoorwills lay their eggs on the ground. 
Did you ever know that ? Well, papa told 
me all about the chimney swallows — how they 
stick their nests to the walls of the chimney. 
You get a bird book, mamma, and you can 
read all about them. Papa says they feed their 
young at night, and that is the reason I heard 
the dreadful roaring. He says chimney swal- 
lows are queer birds, and never get acquainted 
with other birds. I have seen them since. 
They flap their wings a little as bats do, when 
they fly. Oh, yes, there were bats in my room, 
too, that first night, and they frightened me, 
but papa told me bat stories and swallow 
stories until I went to sleep. 

"This is the sure end of this letter, from 
" Your loving daughter, 

" Gladys Birney." 

"P.S. — The old sheep is in a field where he 
can't get out." " B." 




you, papa r 



? 



CHAPTER VII 

HOW GLADYS SET THE FASHIONS 

AT HERS can't do everything, can 
they?" 

There was a lump in Gladys's 
throat, and tears in her eyes. 

" I wish mamma was here, don't 
You can't get ready for church 
alone much better than I can. Grandma al- 
ways helps grandpa get ready." 

" Now don't be discouraged, Gladys; I'll get 
this sash tied after a while. No, I don't need 
any help in getting ready for church myself. 
I'm satisfied with my appearance." 

" Oh, papa, I don't want to hurt your feel- 
ings, but you don't look a bit nice ; your neck- 
tie sticks up so funny, and O dear, I can't tell 
what ails you. Mamma'd know, in a minute ; 
you need mamma, and so do I. How can I 
go to church without having my hair curled ? " 
" There, there, Gladys, don't cry about such 

67 



68 WHAT GLADYS SAW 

a little thing. Your hair curls itself, and it 
looks much more tasty combed out as it is, 
than it would divided up and twisted into 
golden sausages all around your head. I'd 
make the sausages if I could, though." 

The child laughed through her tears. 

" You are just as good as any father could 
be," she admitted, u but we need mamma in this 
house, don't we ? " 

" Do you want to go back to mamma, 
Gladys ? " asked the man. 

" No, but I want her to come home to us, 
don't you ? " 

The silken sash fell in shimmering folds 
about the child's feet. 

" Why, what's the matter, papa ? " 

" The sash is too long, Gladys, too long. I 
can't wad it up enough, no matter how hard I 
try. Let's cut it and use half ; then I can tie 
it in a hard knot and the ends will still be long 
enough to reach the bottom of your dress. It 
will look so neat and tidy." 

" They don't wear sashes that way, papa ; 
they wear sashes tied in big bows. Oh, I 
forgot. Fix it the way you want to, I don't 
care, — only it's a dreadful thing to cut a sash, 



HOW GLADYS SET THE FASHIONS 69 

papa ; I don't know what mamma'd say. She 
won't mind, though, after all, because she told 
me to always do as you think best." 

Gladys watched the cutting of the sash with 
a serious face. 

" Now hold still, Gladys, and we'll have this 
blue decoration disposed of in a minute. 
There ! now it looks smooth and flat — looks 
more like it ! Ought to suit anybody ! " 

11 It does look pretty," agreed Gladys, gazing 
over her shoulder into the mirror. " I wanted 
to wear this sash because it matches these blue 
stockings. I won't have to be afraid of 
mussing my curls this morning when I put 
on my hat. No, papa, that isn't the way. I 
don't wear the rubber under my chin, it goes 
behind my ears, like this. Don't you think 
my hat is pretty? It had just daisies on it 
first, but I coaxed mamma to let me have some 
pink rosebuds, too. 

" Yes, mamma made this white dress her own 
self. She sewed on all the lace, and made these 
little tucks. Mamma can do anything she tries to. 

" Where is our pew in church, papa ? I hope 
we don't have to go way up in front, on ac- 
count of my hair." 



70 WHAT GLADYS SAW 

Gladys's father, brushing his coat, pretended 
not to hear. 

The child repeated the question. 

" It has been my custom, Gladys, to sit in 
your grandfather's pew ; it is pretty well up in 
front, by a window. If we're late, there may 
be somebody in the pew ; and if there is, we'll 
sit where it happens." 

The clergyman was astonished by the size of 
his congregation that Sunday morning. 

Aunt Rebecca sat in her pew, stiff in black 
silk and satisfaction. Within her field of vision 
were Gladys and her father in the old Birney 
pew, as she had promised. The little church 
was crowded to the doors. Aunt Rebecca 
knew it without turning her head. At the 
village sewing circle, at the prayer meeting, at 
the neighbors, everywhere through the country, 
far and near, had Aunt Rebecca spread the 
news that Gladys and her father were going to 
church that Sunday. 

The good clergyman, in the innocence of 
his soul, rejoiced in the reunion of his flock. 
Deep gratitude mingled with emotion in his 
tones, when he announced his text, "Speak to 
the earth and it shall teach thee." 



HOW GLADYS SET THE FASHIONS 71 

There were two who listened attentively to 
the sermon — Gladys and her father. 

When the service was over, Mr. Birney left 
the church with Gladys before any one could 
question him or shake hands. The child 
couldn't understand why he snapped his whip 
and laughed when they drove away. Neither 
could she understand why so many little coun- 
try girls afterward wore sashes tied in hard 
knots, nor why their mothers combed out all 
their pretty curls. 




CHAPTER VIII 

A LONG SUNDAY 

T was time for the evening sermon 
in the village. 

Gladys and her father were eat- 
ing their luncheon on the wide 
front porch when the music of the 
church bell was wafted over the field to them. 

"Papa, the bell is calling us, may we go?" 
The child was lonesome. The Sunday after- 
noon had been so long. She had talked to the 
willows by the river ; she had peeped in the 
ground-birds' nests ; she had w r andered through 
the corn-fields where rogues in black were 
teasing the scarecrow ; she had made dande- 
lion curls, and wreaths of oak leaves and 
gathered the wayside flowers. 

She had gone unbidden to the catbird's 
home in the thicket, and been scolded while 
she lingered ; for how did the cat-birds know 
that Gladys would not molest their nest nor 
touch the complaining babies in it ? 

72 



A LONG SUNDAY 73 

She had walked down the maple lane and 
back, singing the while. She had visited the 
barn-yard and the orchards. She had tried 
the wild grape-vine swing in the locust grove. 
Sitting idly there, she recalled what her father 
had told her of the locust trees; how rapidly 
they grew and how their creeping roots sent 
up shoots that soon became trees themselves. 
She noticed the furrowed, twisted trunks of 
the old trees, and the awkward, ragged branches. 
She had leaned far back in the swing to note 
the changing color of the foliage caused by 
the mingling of new, yellowish green leaflets 
with the older, darker ones. It seemed strange 
to Gladys that any tree should keep putting 
forth new leaves even into midsummer. She 
knew that the leaflets were folded in wet 
weather and at night, and smiled in memory of 
the little girl who said, " It is not bed-time ; the 
locust tree has not begun its prayer." 

Then in the corner of the locust grove had 
Gladys sought her bed of stars-of-Bethlehem. 
They had bloomed in that spot for years and 
years, so still and pure and white.. Gladys 
touched their waxen petals reverently. They 
were her stars-of-Bethlehem, and she loved them. 



74 WHAT GLADYS SAW 

From the locust grove Gladys had followed 
an ancient foot-path to the river ; there she had 
thrown herself upon the grass, tired and half 
homesick. She had never been so utterly 
alone before, and thought with longing of the 
children's faces she had seen in church. She 
thought of Ted Bennet and Nora, and wondered 
what they were doing. 

Then from the river had come the voice of 
gentle waves, saying, " Tired, sleep. Tired, 
sleep." In droning tones the bees in the linden 
above Gladys sung a lullaby song so soft and 
low, the river had no longer need to say, " tired, 
sleep." 

The Sunday afternoon had certainly been a 
long one. 

The church bell ceased ringing even as 
Gladys said, " May we go ? " 

"Why, Gladys," replied her father, "we 
would have to miss the glory of the sunset." 

"There'll be more sunsets, papa," — the tone 
was wistful. 

" True enough, my daughter, but this par- 
ticular sunset will never be repeated, and soon, 
if we listen, we will hear the voices of the 
night." 



A LONG SUNDAY 75 

" I would rather hear the voice of the min- 
ister," protested Gladys, laughing. 

" Oh, you are anxious to hear a sermon, are 
you, sis ? " 

" Yes, papa, I never was so anxious to hear a 
sermon in my life — 'most any kind of a sermon 
would do." 

" Very well, then ; what was the text this 
morning ? " 

" It was from Job : 4 Speak to the earth and it 
shall teach thee.' " 

" Good ; now tell me what you can remember 
of the sermon." 

" Honestly, I can't remember anything else ; 
I listened, though/' 

11 I know you did, Gladys, and the text is so 
good, IVe decided to preach a sermon on it 
that you will remember." 

" You, papa ? " 

" Yes, why not? I have just been reading a 
book called ' The Great World's Farm ' that 
I think you will want to read yourself after you 
hear my sermon. You may be the audience, 
with the privilege of interrupting the sermon 
by asking all the questions you care to. What 
do you say ? " 



76 WHAT GLADYS SAW 

" All right, only I do wish there were more 
folks here. Don't you ever have company, 
papa ? " 

" Certainly, Gladys, I have plenty of the best 
company in the world — the original inhabit- 
ants of my farm, who do as they please and 
let me do the same. But next Sunday, little 
girl, I will drive you over to Aunt Rebecca's 
to spend the day. Now are you ready for the 
sermon ? " 

" Yes, papa, though honestly I don't enjoy 
sermons much as you think." 






L^ 




CHAPTER IX 

AN EVENING SERMON 

O go back to the beginning of 
things, Gladys, this world was 
once — " 

" Don't go back so far, papa. 
Begin a hundred years ago." 
" That's too near our own time, Gladys, but 
if you prefer, I'll skip a few thousand years of 
the beginning, and we will consider the condi- 
tion of the globe when Madam Nature began 
her farming. But first I must explain to you," 
and he talked for about twenty minutes or half 
an hour in a monotonous fashion on the for- 
mation of the earth, a subject that had inter- 
ested him all the afternoon. " Every where were 
solid rocks," he continued, " which had to be 
broken up and made into soil before any plants 
could grow. You understand, Gladys, that 
plants cannot live upon air and water alone, 
but need the mineral substances in the rocks." 

77 



78 WHAT GLADYS SAW 

The child said nothing, unless one chose 
to interpret her long-drawn sigh. 

" Madam Nature/' continued the man, 
" caused earthquakes to break the rocks ; then 
she bade the gases of the air and water, and 
the winds and the rains to do their work, until 
slowly the great rocks were crumbled into dust. 
Would you like to have these processes care- 
fully explained, Gladys ? " 

The child made a gesture of dissent, draw- 
ing her chair nearer her father's as she did 
so. " I don't like the way the river looks, 
papa," she said, " and the sky is so black. 
See those cloud mountains, papa, piling high 
over the tree-tops there. Listen ! Was that 
thunder ? " 

" Possibly," replied the man. " We may get 
a shower after such a sultry day — shouldn't 
be at all surprised. 

" Sometime I will tell you all about the 
action of the frost and about the glaciers — 
those mighty grinders that crush the rocks into 
powder as they move on their silent way. Vol- 
canoes do a wondrous work in pouring forth 
lava, and scattering dust and ashes over the 
surrounding country. 



AN EVENING SERMON 79 

" Rivers and streams, too, wear away the 
solid rocks, and do their part in preparing the 
soil for Madam Nature's farm. Why, what's 
the matter, Gladys ? " 

" Papa, there is going to be a dreadful storm. 
See how the trees are tossing their branches. 
And hear the leaves rustling, papa; and there's 
lightning all over the sky — first in one place 
and then in another. Please take me, papa, 
and don't preach any more." 

Gladys climbed into her father's lap, hiding 
her face on his shoulder. 

" But, Gladys, a summer shower is nothing, 
and I want to tell you about how vegetation 
begins upon the earth." 

" I don't like vegetation, papa." 

11 But it is a most interesting study to trace 
the beginning of plant life, how the spores of 
the lichens, floating about in the air, settle 
upon the rocks or upon the streams of lava, 
and there begin to grow. After the lichens, 
come the mosses, and the mosses are followed 
by mould in which plants gain a foothold ; 
then come the shrubs, and later the tall pine 
trees. Why, are you crying, Gladys ? I have 
scarcely begun the story suggested by that 



80 WHAT GLADYS SAW 

text, ' Speak to the earth and it shall teach 
thee.'" 

" Oh, papa, the thunder talks too loud. I 
can't listen — indeed, I can't." 

" Forget that it is thunder, Gladys, and 
imagine you hear the barn door rolling back 
and wagons rumbling along upon the highway. 
I want to call your attention, as the good 
clergyman would say, to the preparation of 
Madam Nature's farm. As the ages passed 
and plants and trees lived and died and forest 
fires swept over the earth, the soil became rich 
and fertile. Madam Nature sent the earth 
worms to plough the land, keeping them busy 
even to this day. All the burrowing animals 
are doing the same kind of work, — the moles, 
the chipmunks, the prairie dogs of the west, the 
gophers — Why, I thought you had stopped 
crying. Are you so afraid of the storm ? " 

The man himself was startled by the light- 
ning flash of the next moment. Gladys clung 
to him in terror. " Isn't it lucky we didn't go 
to church ? " she sobbed. 

" Lucky is no name for it," agreed her father, 
caressing the golden head. Then he carried 
the child into the house, pulling down the 



AN EVENING SERMON 81 

shades and lighting the lamp with her in his 
arms. 

" Surely the little daughter isn't afraid when 
her father is with her," said he. 

The man held the child close, rocking her 
as he used to in the days gone by, when he 
felt that she was all he had and that he must 
surely lose her — in the days when he would 
not try to keep her, but let her go without 
a word. He seemed to have his baby back 
again. 

There was no break in the fury of the 
sudden storm, but Gladys lost her fear. " Any- 
body needs a good strong father/' she whis- 
pered, with her arms about his neck, "just as 
much as they need a mother to tie sashes and 
do things that fathers can't do." 

" Gladys, I am going to show you something 
that has been my dearest treasure all these 
years since you have been away." 

The father opened a drawer, lifting out a 
pair of baby's shoes — shoes with holes in the 
toes — dear little shoes, bearing the impress 
of the plump baby feet that wore them ; bits of 
old leather, perhaps, but priceless bits. 

" These, Gladys, are the shoes that followed 



82 WHAT GLADYS SAW 

papa all about the farm one long-ago sum- 
mer." 

" Papa," said the child, solemnly, " I am 
never going to leave you until I have to go to 
college. Mamma has the boys, and I guess 
they won't miss me." 







CHAPTER X 

STUDYING A MONARCH 

A PA, I read something this morn- 
ing when you were in the fields 
at work." 

Gladys and her father were 
eating dinner. 
" Something about you, too. Now listen." 
Gladys was fumbling in her pocket for a bit 
of crumpled paper which she spread upon the 
table. 

"I copied this out of a book, and it tells 
what Mr. Emerson thinks about you. We 
took him in school last year." 

" Well, let's hear what you copied, Gladys." 
" All right, listen. ' He who knows the 
most, he who knows what sweets and virtues 
are in the ground, the waters, the plants, the 
heavens, and how to come at these enchant- 
ments, is the rich and royal man.' So that's 
what you are, papa, the ' rich and royal man.' ' 

83 



84 WHAT GLADYS SAW 

" To be that man, Gladys," replied her father, 
" is better than to care for nothing but a bank 
account. Money isn't worth the sacrifice com- 
monly made to obtain it." 

Gladys had never seen her father frown 
before. In a thoughtful mood she cleared the 
table, washed the blue dishes, and put the dining 
room in order — duties she had taken upon 
herself. While Aunt Rebecca might have 
approved the spirit of the undertaking, she 
would never have countenanced the manner 
of its execution. Yet the average man could 
have done no better than little Gladys, — a fact 
doubtless appreciated by her father, who was 
liberal with his compliments. 

Usually Gladys sang as she worked, but on 
this occasion she went about so quietly, her 
father feared she was lonesome, and asked her 
to go with him to the fields to study butterflies. 
Gladys, delighted with the idea, went with him, 
asking more questions about butterflies in five, 
minutes than her father could answer in thirty. 

" Not so fast, Gladys, not so fast," he begged ; 
" your father isn't a walking encyclopaedia." 

" Well, papa, you are the only man or woman 
I ever met who could answer questions about 



STUDYING A MONARCH 85 

things outdoors. Truly, papa, hardly anybody 
knows the difference between a worm and a 
caterpillar." 

" The woful ignorance of this nation ! " 
mocked her father. " What are you going to 
be when you grow up, Gladys — a professor of 
entomology ? " 

" What's that, papa ? " 

" Are you going to teach the science of in- 
sects in some college where the youth of our 
land are longing for enlightenment on the 
subject ? " 

" Yes ; I wish I could, for mamma told me 
long ago that you love the birds and insects, 
and they always remind her of the life on the 
dear old farm." 

" Your mother didn't say that, did she, 
Gladys ? " 

" Yes, papa, she says ' dear old farm ' lots of 
times. Ever since I was a little baby she has 
talked to me about you and our farm. That's 
the reason I wanted to come home. I would 
never have known about it all, if she hadn't told 
me. And now I am going to stay here; it's 
where I belong. 

" Why, papa dear, see what you are doing ! 



86 WHAT GLADYS SAW 

You are spoiling butter-and-eggs with your 
stick." 

Sure enough, all along the roadside were 
scattered the bright blossoms of the butter-and- 
eggs. 

" An undoubted tragedy, Gladys, for which 
this stick must pay the penalty. See ! It is 
broken and left with its victims. Don't laugh, 
child, about anything so sad. 

" There, Gladys, on the red clover blossom is 
our butterfly — the one we are going to study." 

" Why, that's the commonest kind of a but- 
terfly, papa. They are everywhere on the farm ; 
they are orange-brown, and black, and they go 
in flocks. They are never in a hurry. I love 
to watch them flying so easily along ; they seem 
to think that life is all honey. I've watched 
them sailing slowly along, and I've caught 
them, too. They can fly high, papa, and right 
against the wind. What's its name, papa? I 
never knew its name." 

" That is the monarch butterfly, Gladys ; and 
now I think of it, here is a little couplet I want 
you to memorize : — 

" ' And what's a butterfly? At best, 
He's but a caterpillar, drest.' " 



STUDYING A MONARCH 87 

11 Oh, that's easy, papa." 

" There goes our butterfly, Gladys, into the 
clover field. Let's sit here in the shade awhile. 
Take this, my hat will make a better fan than 
yours. What do you know about the mon- 
archs?" 

" Why, only what I know about all butter- 
flies ; there isn't very much to know about 
butterflies, is there — just their names? " 

11 There's everything to know about butter- 
flies, little girl ; the different kinds of butterflies 
have as many distinguishing habits as birds. 
The monarchs are native Americans, and are 
supposed to go south in the winter, just as the 
birds do, returning to the north in the spring. 
Let me take my hat, Gladys ; I want to catch 
a monarch." 

The man was back in a minute with the 
struggling captive. 

" First, I want you to notice the long, slender 
body, which is divided into three parts — the 
head, the thorax, and the abdomen. Attached 
to the thorax you see three pairs of legs. These 
two pairs are used for walking, so that the mon- 
arch belongs to the family of four-footed butter- 
flies." 



88 WHAT GLADYS SAW 

" What's the other pair of legs for ? " 

" For clinging, Gladys. Don't you remem- 
ber the butterflies' habit of clinging ? " 

" Lucky creatures," commented the child ; 
" they can fly or walk or hang up in the air 
to give their wings and feet a rest. What 
are these threadlike arrangements on its head, 
papa, — these little things with the knobs on 
the end ? " 

" They are the feelers, called the antennae, 
Gladys, and are what the butterfly smells with. 
Butterflies have a strong sense of smell. I 
will hold this one while you run and find a 
butterfly on a clover blossom — there's one, 
across the road. You go and see what it does 
with its feelers." 

" Oh, papa," she called, "the butterfly keeps 
lifting the feelers up and putting them down 
again, first one and then the other, and now 
both of them ; and is it really smelling of the 
clover? I'll be back in a minute, but I want to 
watch this butterfly until it — There it goes ! " 

" Now notice the wings of this one in my 
hand, Gladys ; here are four wings trimmed with 
broad, black borders, and in the borders you 
see double rows of white spots. When the 



STUDYING A MONARCH 89 

butterfly is hungry, it keeps its little wings 
quivering ; but when it finds the honey in the 
clover, it folds its wings back and keeps per- 
fectly quiet until the honey is gone. Hunt for 
another butterfly and see for yourself." 

" Yes, sir, that's the truth," said Gladys, a few 
moments later. " And, papa, the butterfly does 
look like a little brown leaf when its wings are 
folded tight, just as you tried to tell me the 
other day when you were explaining to me 
about — about — What did you call it ? " 

" Protective coloring ? " 

" Yes, that's it. I suppose birds don't pay 
any attention to monarchs because they think 
they are dead leaves," remarked the child. 

" The birds never touch a monarch except 
by mistake, because they are such bad-tasting 
butterflies. Oh, no, Gladys, I never tasted of 
one. Just hold this butterfly while I get the 
microscope in my pocket. Now, we'll study 
the wings. In the first place, you understand 
that the wings are formed of a framework of 
gauze in which are blood-vessels and air-tubes 
— the veins which cause the markings. The 
beautiful colors in the butterfly's wings are in 
the scales and their arrangement upon the 



90 WHAT GLADYS SAW 

framework of gauze. Can you see the shapes 
of the scales and how they are overlapped like 
shingles ? When we handle the butterflies we 
rub off the scales." 

" What kind of eyes have the butterflies, 
papa?" 

" Compound eyes, Gladys, like the eyes of all 
insects — made up of thousands of tiny eyes." 

" They must have wonderful sight, papa." 

"That's where you are mistaken, Gladys; 
their sight is so defective they have to depend 
upon the sense of smell. They can see noth- 
ing clearly. 

" Have you observed the monarch's tongue, 
little daughter ? No, you can't see the tongue 
of the butterfly in my hand, because it is coiled 
up and hidden. This tongue is a long, hollow 
tube. When the butterfly smells its food, it 
uncoils its curious black tongue, thrusts the 
end of it in the flower and sucks the honey 
into its stomach." 

The man rose, releasing the captive butter- 
fly as he did so. 

" What are you going to do now, papa ? " 

" Hunt for the eggs of the monarch butter- 
fly," he said. 






STUDYING A MONARCH 91 

" How do you know where to look ? " 

" How do you know where to look for hens' 
eggs, Gladys ? " 

11 Because I know where hens are apt to lay 
their eggs," replied the child. 

" In the same way," said her father, " I know 
where to look for the eggs of the monarch butter- 
fly ; they are sure to be found on milkweed — 
the food-plant of the young caterpillar." 

" Gladys easily found a milkw r eed plant, 
standing tall and straight by the roadside, its 
head slightly bowed by the weight of cluster- 
ing buds. Her father found the butterfly eggs 
scattered singly over the plant, most of them 
on the underside of the pale leaves. By the 
aid of the microscope the child gained some 
idea of the beauty of the eggs, while her father 
explained its structure as best he could. 

" There are many different shaped butterfly 
eggs," he told her, "and all of them are won- 
derful. Even with that microscope you can- 
not see the tiny rosette which crowns the 
monarch's eggs. From the delicate lines of 
the rosette to the base of the egg are ridges, 
from twenty-one to twenty-three — it is a pity 
we cannot see them plainly. 



92 WHAT GLADYS SAW 

" The caterpillar comes out of the top of the 
egg, after which it eats the egg-shell." 

" How long before the eggs are hatched, 
papa ? " 

" In four or five days, if they are not eaten 
up by the crickets or spiders. Perhaps we will 
find some young caterpillars in the top of this 
milkweed. When the little caterpillars are two 
days old, they have eaten so much and so fast 
they have outgrown their skins and have to 
shed them. Here, Gladys, is a little fellow 
among the buds. Do you observe the twelve 
bands of black separated by the bands of yellow 
and white encircling the slender body; and 
do you see the short, black horns at each end 
of the caterpillar? This is one of the cater- 
pillars, Gladys, that rolls itself into a ball and 
drops by a thread when it is disturbed." 

" Does it ever shed its skin again, papa ? " 

"Yes, twice more. The greedy little fellows 
eat night and day, and so grow fast. Look 
among the milkweeds, Gladys, and perhaps 
you will find a full-grown caterpillar. Look 
on the under side of a leaf." 

Gladys's search was followed by a scream. 

" Oh, papa, I found one ; it fell to the 



STUDYING A MONARCH 93 

ground here among the leaves ; the worst- 
looking caterpillar, black and yellow and 
green, with long, waving horns." 

" Pick it up, Gladys, pick it up," laughed her 
father, " it won't hurt you." 

" Catch me picking up that looking crea- 
ture ! " protested Gladys, watching her father 
shake another large caterpillar from the milk- 
weed upon a burdock leaf, where it lay curled 
up like a ball. With two little sticks he 
stretched the caterpillar full length, to show 
Gladys its legs. 

" These three pairs of legs near the head are 
the true legs ; you see they are jointed, and are 
retained when the caterpillar becomes a but- 
terfly. These five pairs of legs back farther 
are called prolegs, and are not true legs at all 
— you see they are not jointed, and appear 
more like feet. At the bottom of each one are 
hundreds of sharp hooks which enable the 
caterpillar to keep its hold on the rough sur- 
face of the milkweed leaf." 

"No wonder they can rest on the under side 
of leaves," interrupted Gladys. 

" The monarch caterpillar spins silken path- 
ways, too, Gladys, so that it certainly does 



94 WHAT GLADYS SAW 

travel safely. Do you notice how leisurely 
these caterpillars are in all their movements; 
they never run as some caterpillars do, but 
behave in a dignified manner, as do the mon- 
arch butterflies." 

" Papa, here is a caterpillar eating. It takes 
the edge of the leaf in its hands, — its front 
legs, I mean, — and eats as though it were starv- 
ing. How do caterpillars breathe, papa ? " 

" Through their sides, Gladys, just as but- 
terflies do." 

" Papa, here on this milkweed across the 
road I've found a caterpillar resting on a thick, 
thick mat of silk ! Please come and see ! 
Maybe it's dead, though." 

Mr. Birney carefully examined the resting 
caterpillar before speaking. 

" It's getting ready to moult, Gladys," he 
said, "and if you come out here to-morrow 
forenoon, you may see the whole process. The 
caterpillar will remain quiet like this for 
twenty-four hours before shedding its skin." 

" Why does it have to shed its skin again, 
papa ; isn't this old one good enough ? " 

11 It is too tight, Gladys. This outer cover- 
ing of our poor caterpillar will neither grow 



STUDYING A MONARCH 95 

nor stretch, and the caterpillar is as uncom- 
fortable as you would be in a dress too tight 
for you." 

" How will the caterpillar get out of its skin, 
papa ? Can you tell me ? " 

" I'll try. This loosened, outer skin slips 
forward, and the caterpillar draws its head 
back. This stretching splits the skin here on 
the top ; then the skin shrinks quickly back 
over the legs, without any trouble to the 
caterpillar, who has to work, however, to get 
its head free from the old head covering. It 
will use its front legs as hands in getting rid 
of this part of its skin. 

" Now we come to the reason the carpet was 
spun. All the little hooks of the prolegs, 
Gladys, are firmly fastened into this silk, so 
that the caterpillar, with its head and front legs 
free, will simply step out of the rest of its skin." 

" Then what will happen, papa ? " 

" The caterpillar next eats the old skin, 
Gladys, after which it waits an hour or two 
for the new skin to harden. Then for two 
or three days it eats milkweed more greedily 
than ever before. At the end of this time it 
grows restless and wanders about in search 



96 WHAT GLADYS SAW 

of a place in which to change into a chrysalis. 
Having found a suitable support, it spins on 
the under side a new carpet of silk, which is 
made thick in one spot, — which spot is known 
as a button of silk. Our caterpillar then 
walks over this carpet until its last pair of legs 
are fastened in the button of silk ; then it 
drops, hanging by this one pair of prolegs. 
The body is then curved upward until the 
head almost touches the button of silk, and 
in this position our caterpillar stays for another 
twenty-four hours. This time, Gladys, when 
the old skin splits and shrinks upward, there 
is revealed the chrysalis w r ith all the parts of 
the butterfly, wrapped and folded together. 

" The slender end of the chrysalis, called the 
cremaster, is provided with hooks, and when the 
chrysalis is finally free from the old caterpillar 
skin, the hooks of the cremaster are fastened 
into the button of silk, and our chrysalis works 
to remove the old skin, which it does not eat 
this time, from the button of silk. After this 
work is done, the chrysalis is quiet while its 
outer covering hardens. 

" You must hunt for a chrysalis, Gladys, it 
will be shining green with yellow spots, — a 



STUDYING A MONARCH 97 

Deautiful thing to see ; a veritable green and 
gold palace of a king, my child, for when the 
chrysalis awakens, is it not a monarch ? " 

" How long will the chrysalis hang like that, 
papa ? " asked the child, who investigated every 
weed in the vicinity while her father talked. 

" About two weeks, Gladys ; at the end of 
the first week the green coloring is gone from 
the chrysalis, and the butterfly can be seen 
through the skin. Finally, the covering is 
torn, and the butterfly walks out. 

" There is no reason why you can't see all 
this for yourself, Gladys, and a great deal more 
than I can tell you. If you have the patience 
to watch, you have an opportunity to observe 
wonderful things every day." 

" Yes, papa, but I wouldn't like to see Bar- 
num's circus all alone. Oh, papa, come here 
quick ! here's the queerest butterfly having a 
dreadful time with its tongue ; its little wings 
hang straight down, and its body is so big I 
don't see how it is ever going to fly. Do 
hurry, papa ! " 

" Well, well, Gladys, that butterfly has just 
emerged from a chrysalis, and we missed see- 
ing it ; what a pity." 



98 WHAT GLADYS SAW 

" But its tongue, papa, what ails its tongue ? " 

" Don't be so excited, Gladys ; the butterfly 
is simply getting its tongue ready for busi- 
ness. You see it is now in two pieces ; these 
pieces are grooved, with curved teeth along the 
edges. The butterfly is trying to fit the edges 
together — there, do you see? Its tongue is 
all right now, formed into a tube by the fasten- 
ing of the two pieces." 

" But, papa, see the wings; they are getting 
bigger all the time. Now the butterfly is be- 
ginning to wave them, and do look at its body 
— getting smaller every minute, sure's you live." 

For half an hour Gladys and her father 
watched the graceful monarch prepare for its 
first flight. At last it floated away — another 
bit of perfection added to the beauty of earth. 

The child sighed. " I was just thinking of 
mamma and the boys," she said in reply to her 
father s questioning look. " I don't like to 
enjoy things without having them here, too; 
do you ? " 

That night while the mother robin in the 
apple tree cuddled her children beneath her 
wings, Gladys sat long by the dormer window, 
thinking. 

She wanted her mother. 






CHAPTER XI 




" DAUGHTERS OF NOON " 

LADYS spent the following morn- 
ing by the milkweed plant down 
the road, where the monarch cater- 
pillar changed its suit. 

" The only thing I didn't like 
about it, papa, was that I was all alone — no 
one to talk to and no one to laugh with me. 
I think we ought to have a party, don't you? 
Or else let's write to the boys to come home 
and watch caterpillars and things." 

11 You may write to the boys, if you like, 
Gladys." 

" Oh, the boys tease me, papa. They make 
fun of my spelling, and laugh at me, and call me 
'professor' until I'm most crazy, sometimes. 
It wouldn't do for me to say anything about 
caterpillars to them, but you could ; I know 
you could make the boys like the farm." 
"[TJ^re is no use, Gladys, in trying to in- 



100 WHAT GLADYS SAW 

terest folks in what does not attract them, 
naturally." 

Something in her fathers tones checked 
Gladys's impulse to say more on the subject. 
She contented herself with asking questions 
about butterflies until her father suggested 
another after-dinner walk. 

The child gladly consented to accompany 
him, but the day was so warm they were both 
glad to seek the shade of the orchard, where 
they seated themselves upon the grass to 
await the coming of stray butterflies. 

u There is a big, black one, papa, trimmed 
with a yellow, spotted border, with one red 
spot in each wing. I've seen so many of 
them ; what's its name ? " 

" That, Gladys, is the black swallowtail ; it 
passes the winter here in the north in the 
chrysalis state. It deposits its eggs on parsley 
— we will find the young caterpillars in the 
garden in September. The caterpillar of the 
black swallowtail, Gladys, has a dangerous 
enemy in the ichneumon fly, which is much 
like a wasp in shape and color. This fly 
deposits its egg in the body of the cater- 
pillar— " 



" DAUGHTERS OF NOON " 101 

" And the caterpillar dies," put in Gladys. 

" No," replied her father, " the caterpillar 
doesn't die, although the egg of the ichneumon 
fly hatches into a little grub, that feeds upon 
the caterpillar. Finally, however, when the 
caterpillar becomes a chrysalis and the fly 
has undergone many changes, the butterfly in 
chrysalis form can no longer supply enough 
food to nourish itself and the fly, and it then 
dies. After this, the ichneumon fly comes 
full grown from the chrysalis. It is said that 
only three or four butterflies mature in every 
sixty eggs that are laid." 

" Oh, what a shame ! " exclaimed Gladys, 
thinking only of the beauty of the black swal- 
lowtail. 

" No, Gladys, it is a wise provision of nature 
to keep the swallowtails from becoming pests 
in our gardens, where the caterpillars feed 
upon carrots, parsnips, celery, and other culti- 
vated plants." 

" What do the caterpillars look like, papa ? 
— so that I will know what they are, if I ever 
see one." 

" They are black at first, except for a spot of 
white in the middle. Later, they are usually 



102 WHAT GLADYS SAW 

green, encircled with bands of black in which 
are orange spots. If you want to see a per- 
formance of remarkable interest, you must 
watch one of these caterpillars when it sheds 
its last skin before reaching the chrysalis state. 
It spins a silken loop, Gladys, which it passes 
over its head and slips a little way down its 
body ; it depends upon this loop for support 
when it is in the chrysalis state." 

" And when you see these chrysalises, 
papa, — " 

" Chrysalids, child, chrysalids." 

" Oh, when you see these chrysalids, papa, 
you don't know whether butterflies or ichneu- 
mon flies will come out of them, do you ? " 

" No, Gladys, it is impossible to tell, though 
the chances are small in favor of the butterfly." 

" Papa, I have seen other butterflies with 
tails on their wings, in different colors." 

11 Of course you have, if you notice butter- 
flies, because there are twenty-five kinds of 
swallowtails in America. There by the fence, 
Gladys, are three saucy tiger swallowtails this 
minute." 

" Those big, yellow butterflies, marked with 
black, papa ? " 



"DAUGHTERS OF NOON" 103 

" Yes, they are a bold, careless tribe and like 
company as well as you do. Their favorite 
flower is the lilac ; I wish you could have seen 
them feeding on an old lilac bush this spring. 
You must watch for the caterpillars of the tiger 
swallowtail this fall, Gladys, they are the most 
savage-looking fellows you ever saw. They 
are green when full grown, and naked." 

11 Oh, I remember, papa, the ugly caterpillar 
that puffs all up and sticks out its horns if you 
touch it with a stick. Only I didn't know its 
name. 

" Oh, papa, tell me about the mourning 
cloak butterflies. I have w r anted to know what 
they look like ever since I saw their caterpillars. 
Did I ever see one, do you think ? " 

11 Keep your eyes open and you will see one 
now, if you never did before," and her father 
motioned toward a fluttering bit of yellow- 
edged brown, sailing low through the orchard. 
" There is your butterfly of the mourning cloak. 
Isn't it a beauty ? " 

" I saw one of those caterpillars only yester- 
day, papa, and it looked for all the world like 
a piece of bark until it spread its wings and 
flew away." 



104 WHAT GLADYS SAW 

" A protective trick, Gladys," observed her 
father, "and another thing the butterfly does 
to save itself from its enemies, is to play dead. 
Catch one sometime, and you will find that you 
may toss it about as if it were indeed a piece 
of bark, so motionless will it be." 

" I can't see how that trick would save the 
butterfly, papa." 

" Because, Gladys, its enemies wouldn't touch 
a dead butterfly." 

" What becomes of the pretty things in the 
winter, papa? Do they go south as the monarchs 
do, or do just their chrysalids live through the 
winter ? " 

The butterflies of the mourning cloak sleep 
all winter, hanging beneath fences, under loos- 
ened bark or in stone piles — indeed, you may 
look for them anywhere in sheltered places. 
They are the butterflies to welcome the first 
warm days of spring." 

" I should think they would starve, papa, 
waiting for the flowers to come." 

" They would, my child, if they had to wait 
for the flowers, but they live well on the sap 
in the trees ; and in the autumn, when the 
flowers are gone, they feast upon apples and 
decaying fruits. 



"DAUGHTERS OF NOON" 105 

" Another butterfly you must study, Gladys, 
is the painted beauty, which hibernates in its 
butterfly form, though its winter hiding-places 
have not been discovered. You will see it in 
flocks, in September and October, fluttering 
about the thistles, goldenrod, and dandelions. 

" It is a beautiful creature, mostly rose color, 
marked with orange and white — I can't de- 
scribe it, child ; it has as many colors on its 
wings as Joseph's coat, and on each hind wing 
are two peacock eye-spots. The eggs of this 
butterfly are laid on everlasting plants, and the 
little caterpillars make nests of the blossoms, 
where they rest and hide. 

" A butterfly, very much like this one, is the 
painted lady ; it may be distinguished from the 
painted beauty by the four small peacock eye- 
spots on its hind wings, instead of two large 
ones. Its caterpillar feeds on thistles ; and as 
thistles are found everywhere, the painted lady 
is known the world over. 

" I am not going to tell you another fact 
about butterflies, Gladys, because I am afraid 
you will get what you have learned confused." 

11 But, papa dear, you haven't told me a word 
about the white butterflies, nor the yellow ones, 
nor the viceroys, nor — " 



106 WHAT GLADYS SAW 

" Study them for yourself, little girl," inter- 
rupted her father, " that's the only way to be 
sure of your knowledge ; and as you will have 
both books and butterflies to consult, I think 
your prospects are bright." 

" And I have a father who knows something, 
too," added Gladys. 



CHAPTER XII 




THE ROBIN'S NEIGHBORS 

HE Robin in the apple tree had 
neighbors. Just beneath her, in 
the hollow trunk, lived the Blue- 
birds, a fine old family, always 
contented and happy. Their 
home had once belonged to a Woodpecker, 
but that was so long ago the fact was never 
referred to in public. Not that the Bluebirds 
had any false pride in the matter — they, per- 
haps, believed it unnecessary to tell all one 
knows, as the Blue Jays do. 

For many seasons the father Bluebird had 
awakened the apple tree from its winters sleep. 
Not that he could sing loud and clear like the 
Robin, who sometimes came north in March 
at the risk of his life; but he knew a song that 
went right to the heart of the tree. It must 
have been a low, sweet song of spring, of the 
happy days to come — a matchless song, for 
even the Bluebird sung it but once in the sea- 

107 



108 WHAT GLADYS SAW 

son. The apple tree never failed to respond, 
and the day of the Bluebirds' coming marked 
the opening of tiny buds, from which the baby 
leaves peeped forth, eager to greet the sun. 

For a few weeks following, the Bluebird was 
silent — a fact which puzzled the Robin, who 
sung to his mate, to himself, and to the world 
with equal joyousness. 

Later, when the grasses and the wild ones of 
the earth were up and dressed, the father Blue- 
bird and the father Robin sang duets with a 
bit of help from their mates at times when 
household duties were not too pressing. 

Even the Robin must have noticed that there 
was never a harsh word spoken in the Bluebird 
family. The father Bluebird was always a gen- 
tleman, and a handsome one at that, in his sky- 
blue coat and red vest. He was no saint, to 
be sure, and could fight like a Trojan in de- 
fence of his rights, when necessary ; but he 
never forgot his dignity, nor lost control of his 
voice. 

The little lady in blue, his mate, appeared to 
adore him from the crown of his faultless head 
to the tip of his black feet. She was such a 
gentle, sweet-toned bunch of feathers. 



THE ROBIN'S NEIGHBORS 109 

Many and many a time, when the father 
Bluebird has been heard murmuring so sadly, 
" Dear, dear, think of it, think of it ! " he has 
been oppressed by the knowledge that birds 
like her have been killed to put on hats. Who 
wouldn't say, " Dear, dear, think of it, think 
of it ! " 

In the oak tree near-by, lived the Redheads, 
a matter-of-fact, hard-working family, with no 
music in their souls, — or, at least, the music 
in their souls never found expression. It 
isn't fair to be uncharitable in matters of 
opinion. 

The Redheads moved in from the woods — 
they used to live way back in an old, dead tree, 
but changed their location for the sake of resid- 
ing nearer the fruit market. They were an 
unsociable family, though, and the Robins had 
no dealings with them. 

The father Woodpecker was a busy fellow ; 
from early morning until sunset he was ham- 
mering and tapping, and tapping and hammer- 
ing on the trees, reminding one of the old 
nursery story of the wolf and the little pigs. 
So far as the Woodpecker is concerned, the 
worms and grubs all live in the houses of straw ; 



110 WHAT GLADYS SAW 

and when the Woodpecker knocks at the door, 
as did the wolf in the story, why not imagine 
that he says, not, " Little pig, little pig, may 
I come in ? " but, " Little worm, little worm, 
may I come in?" Then when the Woodpecker 
stops to listen, isn't it possible that the little 
worm replies, as did the little pig in his house 
of straw, " No, no ; not by the hair of my 
chinny-chin-chin." Then the Woodpecker 
says as did the wolf, " I'll huff, and I'll puff, 
and I'll blow your house in," so he huffs and 
he puffs, as the old story goes, and he blows 
the house in and eats up the little worm, as the 
wolf ate the little pig. 

Who can say that the father Woodpecker 
never tells the Woodpecker children this old- 
time, favorite story — the queer little Wood- 
pecker children in the deep, dark nest. How 
they must have admired their father's and their 
mother's crimson heads, and wondered if their 
own plain feathers of grayish black would ever 
look the same. It may be that the sound of 
the Woodpeckers' drumming was the sweetest 
music to the little ones at home. 

Would that all the Redheads were as safe 
from harm as the family in the old oak tree. 



THE ROBIN'S NEIGHBORS 111 

To them has been given the preservation of 
the forests in which other birds rejoice. Long 
may they live. 

Then there was the Baltimore Oriole in the 
elm tree ; such a fine fellow. He had a way of 
coming north when the cherry trees were in 
bloom — as though he knew how stunning he 
looked in his suit of orange and black among 
the white blossoms. 

More than once the mother Robin had con- 
tended with Madam Oriole for the same bit of 
string, pulling and tugging in the most impo- 
lite fashion, until one or the other bore the 
prize to her nest. It isn't right to repeat 
gossip, but Madam Oriole, whose hanging 
nest has always been considered a work of art, 
was once known to twit the mother Robin 
with having no style about her work, making 
taunting remarks about her careless housekeep- 
ing and disgraceful untidiness. 

The mother Robin, although too generous 
to long hold a feeling of resentment, reminded 
Madam Oriole that the best housekeepers are 
not always the best home makers. Then she 
declared herself thankful that her babies were 
contented little darlings, and not continually 



112 WHAT GLADYS SAW 

fretting and complaining after the manner of 
Oriole babies. 

The quarrel might have been serious in its 
consequences but for the timely interference of 
the barn cat. 

The truth is, the Oriole babies were to be 
pitied. Their father was always threatening to 
leave home, though he hadn't the least inten- 
tion of doing so. He used to sing out again 
and again, in his clear, ringing voice, " I'm 
going to leave you, leave you, leave you ! " No 
wonder the poor babies cried and cried. Yet 
there wasn't a better father on the farm than 
that same Oriole. He was untiring in his care 
of the nestlings, and brought them food from 
far and near — insects, worms, and grubs — 
anything to fill their hungry stomachs. 

The Oriole was a brave, cheerful citizen, and 
if a cat or a chipmunk wandered into the 
neighborhood, he not only warned his own 
folks to be on their guard, but he roused every 
bird, within hearing, of the danger. He was a 
good musician, too, whose full, strong voice 
joined with the Robin's in praise and thanks- 
giving. 

In the orchard lived some cousins of the 



THE ROBIN'S NEIGHBORS 113 

Baltimore, — shy little birds in plainer feathers, 
who made no pretensions whatever, but lived 
quietly, sung their perfect songs for a brief 
season, content to escape all notice. 

The Robins knew them well ; the mother in 
olive green gown, the father in chestnut and 
black. 

Their nest was a basket woven of grasses; 
beautiful cradle for the babies in the tree-top, 
— strong little babies who made their first trip 
to the south in short dresses. 

The mother Robin wouldn't have consented 
to allow her children to travel in their speckled 
bibs, but the orchard Orioles always left for 
Central America before the first of September. 
The little folks had to wear their baby clothes, 
because they had nothing else at that time of 
the year. 

It is a noticeable fact that the Orioles, having 
ideas of their own, managed their affairs accord- 
ingly. They did what they considered best for 
themselves and their family, regardless of the 
ways of other birds. 

What a tiresome lot that of the birds would 
be if they could and would copy one another 
and change their feathers at will. To be sure, 



114 WHAT GLADYS SAW 

successive seasons would offer some variety to 
the observer. There would be times when all 
the babies, great and small, would wear spec- 
kled bibs! Then again, white would be the 
proper thing, and the Robin children would be 
tumbling over the grass like animated balls of 
snow. Topknots would occasionally be the 
rage among the grown folks, and everybody 
from Crows to Wrens would have to wear them 
or be out of style. Sometimes a single white 
feather would be worn by every bird on the 
farm. Again it would be the fashion for all 
to wear blue, and in that event, what would 
become of the Scarlet Tanager if he rebelled ! 
Suppose all the birds wore yellow tails for a 
season ; or, how interesting the feathered folks, 
from Fish-hawks to Humming-birds, would ap- 
pear bedecked in polka-dot wings ! 

In such a state of affairs there would be one 
consolation. The entire winter could be spent 
in wondering what the birds would wear in the 
spring. 

It isn't generally known, but the Cow-bird is 
a rascal and an outcast to-day, simply because, 
instead of trusting to his own instincts in the 
matter of nest building, he thought to imitate 



THE ROBIN'S NEIGHBORS 115 

all the birds he knew. He naturally became 
bewildered by the infinite variety of nests 
around him and the varying materials used 
in their construction, lost courage, and gave 
up building altogether. After that he went 
from bad to worse, until, dreaded and despised 
by all birds, he is known everywhere as a vil- 
lain, all because he lacked the courage to 
follow out his own ideas. He failed to live up 
to the best there was in him. 

Not far from the Robin's ancestral tree, the 
Kingbird reigned. A noble fellow, wearing 
an orange-red crown, white vest, and coat of 
gray. He carried his head with an all-conquer- 
ing air, standing erect like a knight of old. 
He defended his mate, his home, and his little 
ones with energy never excelled. 

His mate was a stately dame, well worth 
defending with one's life. 

His home represented untiring labor, as the 
materials in it were collected from all parts of 
the farm. It was a deep, strong nest, made of 
weed stalks, grasses, and moss, and lined with 
the down of plants, rootlets, and fine grasses. 
It was about twenty feet above the ground, 
securely fastened in the extremity of a branch. 



116 WHAT GLADYS SAW 

As for the little ones, they were treasures of 
whom the father Kingbird and the mother 
Kingbird were justly proud, and to whom they 
were most devoted. 

The Kingbird children believed that their 
father owned not only the tree in which they 
lived, but everything they saw from the rim of 
their nest — including the very air, as well. 
Their father may have shared that belief, if his 
actions were to be taken into account. He cer- 
tainly tried to convince the hawks and the 
crows that he had rights that must be re- 
spected, rights for which he fought valiantly, 
as though he enjoyed charging upon the 
enemy. 

Many and many a time when the father 
Kingbird has been quietly perched upon a 
branch, waiting to catch a big insect as it 
sailed by, that he might give his children a 
treat, he has seen a hawk or a crow in the 
distance. Then, giving his peculiar cry, he 
has gone in pursuit, swooping down upon his 
victim and fighting as though the safety of 
his family depended upon the result of the 
battle. 

Sometimes the Kingbird babies were badly 



THE ROBIN'S NEIGHBORS 117 

frightened, but oftener they longed for the 
time to come when they could leave the nest 
and go forth, brave and fearless birds like their 
father. 

Oh, the Robin had no lack of neighbors ; there 
were the Wrens, the Yellowbirds, the Cherry- 
birds, the dear little Chipping Sparrows, the 
saucy Cat-birds, the Bobolinks, in the near-by 
meadow, and ever so many others, all of them 
interesting folks and good citizens. 

Yet the one the Robin seemed to love the 
best was Gladys — the child who lived among 
them, respecting their rights while observing 
their ways. The birds feared her no more 
than a wayside flower. The Robin grew 
accustomed to her presence in the dormer 
window, and comforted the sometimes lonely 
child with songs of cheer and courage. 



CHAPTER XIII 



A SPARROW STORY 




GLADYS was homesick. The rain 
knew it and said so in dismal tones. 
The sun would have laughed about 
it and dried the tears that rolled 
down her cheeks, but the rain wept 
with her, nor whispered one word of comfort. 
He might have told her of thirsty plants that 
welcomed his coming ; of drooping wayside 
beauties who lifted their heads and took 
courage when they heard his music on the 
hills. 

The rain is a capricious fellow. Sometimes 
he sings a lullaby song, low and soothing; 
again, he scolds and blusters, trying to drive 
all before him. Other times, in persuasive 
tones, he reads poems of the cloudland to those 
who care to listen. Often, however, he weeps 
and wails as though he were the chief mourner 
at nature's funeral. 



118 



A SPARROW STORY 111) 

The day Gladys was lonesome he cried like 
a great baby. His tears splashed and splat- 
tered upon the window-sill with such vehe- 
mence that Gladys's father was roused from 
his study of a time-worn volume. 

He glanced around quickly as though some 
one had called him. Then he realized that 
Gladys had been quiet longer than usual. 
Something in her attitude suggested dejection, 
to express it mildly. The smile that hovered 
for a moment on the mans face was caught 
and smothered by his reproving conscience. 

"Well, little daughter," he said, "the think- 
ing corner must be a dreary place at this hour ; 
hadn't you better come and sit in your father's 
lap and have a little talk ? " 

The child needed no urging, but rested her 
head against her father's broad shoulder with a 
sigh of satisfaction. The man pretended not 
to see the tear stains on her cheeks, nor the 
little wet handkerchief she held so tight. 

"What shall we talk about, Gladys?" he 
asked. 

" Oh, anything." 

" Caterpillars, for instance ? " 

^ No, I've had enough about those crawling 



120 WHAT GLADYS SAW 

things for a while. I'll tell you, papa, I'd like 
a good bird story — one with some sense in it 
— a story about something that really hap- 
pened." 

"How the geese saved — " 

" No, I know that one, we took it once. Don't 
you know a story about a bird that really lived 
long ago and did some great thing, as the 
geese did ? " 

" Certainly, little girl, the pages of history 
are full of such stories. One simply needs 
patience in searching for them. I have in 
mind now, a story that I think will interest 
you, about a Spanish sparrow. It is strictly 
true, many accounts of it being found in the 
magazines and papers of the day. 

" A great many years ago there was raging 
in Cuba what is known in history as the Ten 
Years' War. At the beginning of this war the 
Spaniards, admiring the courage of the spar- 
row, had chosen it to represent their cause, 
naming the cat as the symbol of the Cubans, 
whom they hated. 

" It so happened, that soon after, a flock of 
sparrows were eating breakfast in the road, 
when a cat sprang into their midst and killed 



A SPARROW STORY 121 

one of the little birds before the soldier who 
witnessed the deed had time to interfere. 

" Using his musket for a club, the soldier 
instantly made the cat drop the dead bird. 
Then he smoothed its ruffled feathers while he 
answered the questions of the crowd that had 
gathered around him. The soldier suddenly 
found himself a hero among his comrades. 

" Before the morning was over, some one told 
the story to the captain of the guard, who 
ordered the cat put in prison. Perhaps the 
soldiers needed amusement ; however that may 
be, the cat was captured and put in prison." 

" Honestly, papa, cross your heart and hope 
to die, is this a true story ? " 

11 It is history, Gladys, and absolutely true ; 
and when I have finished, you will have reason 
to think it a strange and all but impossible 
story. 

" The same afternoon the cat was led forth, 
tried by court martial and sentenced to be shot; 
when this sentence had been carried out, the 
body of the sparrow was embalmed. 

" Soon afterward the story was told to Cap- 
tain-general Domingo Dulce who was in com- 
mand of the island of Cuba. He listened 



122 WHAT GLADYS SAW 

quietly, and to the great astonishment of all 
Havana, he decided to give the sparrow a great 
funeral and bury it with military honors. 

" The captain-general gave as his reason 
that the sparrow, as their symbol, represented 
the ' admirable qualities possessed by the sol- 
diers of Spain.' 

" The bishop was sent for; when he reached 
the palace he was told to do his part in the 
services just as he would if a soldier were dead. 
All the great men of Havana were invited to 
attend the funeral; among them was the judge 
of the Supreme Court, two famous authors, and 
the editors of all the newspapers published in 
the city. An invitation from the captain-gen- 
eral was the same as a command, and no one 
dared refuse to go. 

" The wives of the commanders of the eight 
battalions in Havana, sent offerings of flowers. 
The tiny bird of the street was placed on a bier 
laden with beautiful blossoms, and solemnly 
borne to its grave. 

" The drums were muffled and the proces- 
sion, led by the captain-general and the bishop, 
marched with bowed heads to the cemetery, as 
though in honor to the memory of a great man. 



A SPARROW STORY 123 

" Surely, Gladys, in all bird history, there is 
nothing quite equal to the story of the ' Grand 
Burial of the Sparrow.' " 

Gladys recovered her spirits and her ability 
to ask questions at the same instant. She 
wanted to know the exact color of the cat, who 
owned it, and if it was kindly treated before 
its execution. She asked about fifty questions 
regarding the sparrow before her father man- 
aged to change the subject. 

" Gladys," said he, " do you know what bird 
sings in the early morning 'Maids, maids, maids, 
hang on your tea-kettle, ettle, ettle? ' 

" No," laughed the child. 

" It is the song-sparrow, one of our best 
musicians, who sings throughout the season. 
He wears a plain coat of russet and gray with 
a conspicuous black spot in his vest." 

11 Oh, papa, is his nest on the ground ? " 

" Yes, or in a low bush." 

" Then I have seen song-sparrows and their 
nests," she said. " Way down on the river path 
there is a nest almost hidden by mullein plants. 
You remember what you told me, papa, about 
how the Romans used to dry the mullein stalks, 
then dip them in suet and burn them for funeral 



124 WHAT GLADYS SAW 

torches, and how the Greeks used the leaves for 
lamp-wicks ; well, when I saw those mulleins, I 
stopped a minute to look at them and then I 
saw a nest with five eggs, all speckled with 
brown. I tiptoed away just as softly, and the 
birds didn't even know I peeped at the nest 
because the mother bird came right back and 
didn't make a bit of fuss. Afterward, the 
father bird came and sang a long time. I 
could see him plainly because he perched on a 
bush near the nest. I kept still as a mouse, 
though. 

" I know where there are hundreds of nests, 
papa, and I go calling every day, but the trou- 
ble is, I don't know the names of all the folks 
I visit." 

" Jump down a second, Gladys, while I find 
some bird books ; this is just the kind of an 
afternoon to look at the photographs of our 
friends. We will have a pleasant as well as a 
profitable time the rest of this day," and they 
did. 




CHAPTER XIV 

WILD ONES BY THE WAY 

JNE day Gladys wandered into the 
old forest alone. She didn't in- 
tend going so far from home when 
she started, but the wild ones led the 
way, and she followed gladly. In 
the first place, there was Bouncing Betsy clown 
the road in a flutter of rosy bloom, running on 
and on ahead of her. Many and many a year 
Bouncing Betsy had walked about the farm- 
house, down the maple lane toward the barn, 
and back again in the direction of the river, 
always seeking the farmer's children, whom 
she missed. 

When Gladys came at last, she danced about 
the place for joy. 

Strong and cheery was Bouncing Bet, the 
old-time friend of children. Gladys knew her 
story — how her ancestors ran away from the 
gardens in England years and years ago to 

125 



126 WHAT GLADYS SAW 

join the wild ones, the bright-faced dandelions 
and the daisies who were always peeping 
through the garden fences, laughing at the 
prisoners within. Those ancestors of Bounc- 
ing Bet loved freedom ; and when once they 
found themselves out in the lanes and mead- 
ows ; they could not be reclaimed, but followed 
their wayward fancies, even daring to cross the 
Atlantic in search of more adventures. 

So Bouncing Betsy tempted Gladys to wan- 
der on and on, past the field where her father 
was at work, past the orchards, and away 
through the sunshine and the shadows of that 
summer afternoon, until the Quaker Ladies rose 
in protest. 

Being a descendant of a well-bred family 
Bouncing Betsy was never rude. With ut- 
most courtesy she stepped aside to allow the 
Quaker Ladies a chance to express themselves. 

They may have wanted to tell Gladys to go 
back ; but they stood erect and speechless by 
the roadside, perhaps too shocked to say a 
word. Quaker Ladies never go to walk alone 
as Gladys did. 

The child smiled when she saw them. She 
had met them in the country near her grand- 



WILD ONES BY THE WAY 127 

father's home, when for a brief season they 
wore dainty gowns, and marched in the grand 
parade of spring — clustering bunches of loveli- 
ness. The Quaker Ladies may have heard 
themselves called Bluets then, and perhaps 
that is why they changed their gowns so 
quickly. Even a Quaker Lady might grow 
vain in time if all the world admired her. 

Gladys forgot the Quaker Ladies for an in- 
stant, when a slender, Blue-eyed Mary bowed 
and smiled but a little farther down the road. 
When she reached the place, Blue-eyed Mary, 
from her grassy home, motioned toward a Par- 
tridge Vine trailing its evergreen leaves over a 
fallen log, at the same time nodding toward the 
Quaker Ladies. Gladys was puzzled for a 
minute, until she remembered that the Quaker 
Ladies and the Partridge Vine were near rela- 
tives. Then how she laughed. 

" Excuse me, Miss Blue-eyed Mary," she said, 
" but it is so funny to think those two belong 
to the same family ; they don't seem to me 
any more alike than my father and Aunt 
Rebecca. 

" Partridge Vine, how 7 came you here away 
from the woods where you belong? I've seen 



128 WHAT GLADYS SAW 

your folks lots of times when I've been out in 
the woods after trailing arbutus. You are 
beautiful, and I love you. No, I won't tear 
you away from your home by the log — I'll sit 
here beside you and rest for a while. I know 
that the winter birds like your bright red ber- 
ries, and I wouldn't rob birds. Your little 
white blossoms are made of sweet-smelling 
wax, I think ; they are twin beauties peeping 
from two green leaves at the ends of your vines. 
I like to feel of your leaves, too, they are so 
smooth and firm. 

" Oh ! there's Blue-eyed Mary's whole family. 
You needn't look so frightened, you pretty 
little sisters, I wouldn't carry you away from 
here for anything ; you wouldn't be so charm- 
ing anywhere else. I s'pose you'd die before I 
could get you into water. Doesn't hurt you to 
get your feet wet, I guess, or you wouldn't walk 
around in wet places so much. I should think 
your folks would have the rheumatism. 

" That big cousin or uncle, or whatever rela- 
tion he is to you, the Button-bush, fairly hugs 
the river. You needn't look so surprised, be- 
cause I know a little something, you see; I took 
you in school, and beside that, my father knows 



WILD ONES BY THE WAY 129 

everything, — 'cept how to sew and tie sashes, or 
trim hats, — I guess he couldn't trim hats. 

" There's one thing I like about you flowers : 
you stand right still to be studied ; you don't 
fly away as the birds do, the minute I come too 
near. 

11 Who are your folks, Blue-eyed Mary ? let 
me think — oh, yes, you belong to the Iris 
family, and that reminds me of something our 
teacher made us learn about you — something 
from the Bible. Please bend your heads and 
listen : — 

" i For the sun is no sooner risen with a burning heat 
But it withereth the grass, 
And the flower thereof falleth, 
And the grace of the fashion of it perisheth. , 

" Now that means you, for our teacher said 
that some one, who wrote a book on flowers, 
thought that the apostle James had the blue- 
eyed grass in mind when he made up that 
poetry. 

" Why, my dear little Blue-eyed Mary, I see 
several of your cousins this minute. Why don't 
you bow to your own folks ? I could call to 
them from here without getting up, but they 
might think me rude. It would be all right to 



130 WHAT GLADYS SAW 

sing out that way to Bouncing Bet, but the 
Fleur-de-lis must be approached with more 
ceremony, as my father would say. I must go 
over and see them, so good-by, Miss Mary, you 
dainty dear, and good luck to you. Any time 
when I think that the 'sun has risen with a 
burning heat,' a ' fashion of your flower perish- 
eth ' kind of a day, I'll think of you and bring 
my father's big umbrella out here to keep you 
safe from harm." 

Gladys looked over her shoulder at the blue- 
eyed grass until she reached the home of the 
favorite of a king, the Fleur-de-lis, whose regal 
splendor caused the child to fall upon her knees 
before it. 

For a time she was silent ; then she drew the 
long, flat leaves between her fingers and touched 
so gently the violet-blue blossoms. Softly, in a 
tone of reverence, she repeated a memory gem 
from Longfellow, regarding the Fleur-de-lis: — 

" ' Born in the purple, born to joy and pleasance, 
Thou dost not toil nor spin, 
But makest radiant with thy presence, 
The meadow and the lin.' " 

The coming of a bumblebee next attracted 
Gladys's attention. It went so busily from 




"OH, YOU FUNNY, BUZZING BEE" 



WILD ONES BY THE WAY 131 

flower to flower, making such a fuss about the 
gathering of a little nectar, that Gladys laughed 
aloud. 

" Oh, you funny buzzing bee, you think the 
world was made for you ; now don't you ? You 
think yourself so smart because you know where 
to find honey. I've had to listen to so many lec- 
tures about the ' little busy bee ' that I am going 
to tell you a thing or two now I have the chance. 
You put on altogether too many airs. You 
work hard because you want to and because 
you have to. Now the Fleur-de-lis stands here 
all dressed up in purple and fine linen and 
makes you work for the whole Iris family. Now 
don't get excited and buzz so loud, it's the truth ; 
I understand all about it. Your little bee chil- 
dren have to be fed on honey and pollen, so, of 
course, you have to get them food, because no 
one else will do it for you. I think the Fleur- 
de-lis father and mother are much brighter than 
you, because they don't like to work, and they 
won't, when there is such a goose as you around. 

11 Oh, go away, bee, go away, — don't sting me, 
please ; that wouldn't be polite. I don't mean 
to hurt your feelings, I just want to explain 
things to you. It's like this : the mother Fleur- 






132 WHAT GLADYS SAW 

de-lis takes care of the babies, of course ; baby 
plants are seeds, you know, and the father Fleur- 
de-lis provides their food — that's pollen. This 
pollen he keeps in the hall that leads, to his 
honey store-room. The father Fleur-de-lis and 
the mother Fleur-de-lis both know that when 
you come and stick your fuzzy old head around 
after honey, that you'll get all covered with 
pollen, and that you'll take the pollen right over 
to the hungry Fleur-de-lis children, who couldn't 
grow without it. Then after a while, when the 
babies are big enough and strong enough to be 
trusted away from home, they are sent down to 
Mother Earth, who takes the best kind of care 
of them — cuddles them in soft blankets and 
feeds them until, by and by, they are big chil- 
dren, with roots and leaves like their father's 
and mother's. 

" What dreadful tempers your folks do have, 
bee ; now what makes you so angry ? I should 
think you'd be thankful to be of some use to 
your neighbors. It isn't nice to be selfish and 
never think of any one outside your own family. 

"There she goes! 

" Wasn't it fun to tease her? " continued the 
child, addressing the Fleur-de-lis. " If she had 



WILD ONES BY THE WAY 133 

been a little more friendly, I would have told 
her that you couldn't live without the bumble- 
bees, and that you wear purple on purpose to 
attract her. 

" I don't wonder a bit that the French King 
Louis chose you from all other flowers to be 
the emblem of his house, for you are most beau- 
tiful. I suppose he was delighted to have you 
called 4 Flower of Louis.' 

" I should think you would like to live out 
here. If I were a garden flower, I would run 
away just as Bouncing Bet did. Her name 
used to be 'Rebounding Elizabeth' — only 
think of it ! " 

Gladys laughed until a Blue Jay scolded her 
from a tree near by. 

"What's the matter, Blue Jay?" she asked. 
u Did I wake your children ? Where is your 
nest ? I suppose it is high up in a tree some- 
where. My father says you plant forests. Don't 
fly away, Mr. Blue-and-white, wait — I'll follow 
you to your home, see if I don't." 

Perhaps Gladys's feet tried to be wings. Cer- 
tain it is that when she chased the Blue Jay 
her feet flew high in the air and she fell among 
the Johnny-jump-ups. 



134 WHAT GLADYS SAW 

Some one from afar called over his shoulder, 
" Jay, jay, jay, jay," but Gladys paid no attention 
to his teasing, so pleased was she with the 
Johnny-jump-ups who crowded about her in 
evident surprise. 

" Oh, you little darlings ! " exclaimed the 
child. "I didn't expect to find you here, in- 
deed I didn't. Just as soon as the snow goes 
away next spring, I am going to hunt for all 
your shy little cousins — every one of them 
packed up and went away before I came. I 
suppose the rainy weather has kept you here so 
long. You really must excuse me now because 
the Black-eyed Susans are calling me to come 
and play with them in the meadow. Good-by, 
little Johnnies." 

A tumbled-down rail fence surrounded the 
playground of the Black-eyed Susans — merry 
daughters of summer. From every nook and 
corner they were peeping at Gladys, who hung 
over the fence, speechless. 

Here and there were yellow lilies, chaperons 
perhaps, whose presence served to keep in check 
undue hilarity. 

Gladys had never seen so glorious a gather- 
ing of Black-eyed Susans, and the memory of 



WILD ONES BY THE WAY 135 

the scene never left her. The picture was 
photographed upon her mind in living colors, 
and the brightness of that meadow cast its 
glow upon her future years. 

For a wonder, the little preacher-bird, the 
Red-eyed Vireo, who perched upon the fence, 
was silent too, though surely he never had a 
better chance to launch into a sermon for the 
child's benefit. Perhaps it is just as well 
that he missed his opportunity and made 
Gladys laugh by trying to look remarkably 
pious. 

She didn't know that he was guarding a tiny 
nest in the near-by thicket — a pocket-like nest, 
made of strips of bark, fine grasses, bits of 
dead wood, plant fibres, and even pieces of 
newspaper that he had borrowed from her 
father. 

When Gladys left the fence, the gray-headed 
little preacher adjusted his white vest and olive 
coat, and straightway lectured the Black-eyed 
Susans in fine style. He chose for his text 
"Consider the Lilies," — and if his sermon 
proved a bit tiresome, his audience was uncon- 
scious of it. 

When Gladys reached the woods at last, a 



136 WHAT GLADYS SAW 

feeling of terror seized her, and she ran back to 
her father, scarcely daring to look behind. 

" No, papa," she said, in reply to her father's 
questionings, " I wasn't afraid the trees would 
chase me, I was just lonesome all at once." 






CHAPTER XV 



GLADYS WRITES TO HER MOTHER 



HI 



1Y DEAR MOTHER: Every 
time I write to you I have so 
many things I want to tell you 
that I leave out half of them. I 
love to get your letters, mamma, 
but if you haven't time to write to both of us, 
please write to papa once in a while instead of 
to me. When he has a letter from you he 
reads it over and over more than he does his 
books. 

" I know that you have got to live in the 
city, mamma, where you can be stylish and go 
to clubs and everywhere you like to go, and 
papa has got to live on this farm where every- 
thing is wild and free ; but papa loves you the 
same way he loves the wild birds ; he wouldn't 
put you in a cage where you didn't want to be. 
That's why he let you go home to grandma so 
easily ; he told me so when I asked him what 

137 



138 WHAT GLADYS SAW 

made him, so if I were you, I would write to 
him often. 

" This home isn't as nice as it would be with 
a mother in it — makes me cry sometimes. I 
don't dare talk about you as much as I did 
when I first came ; I can't explain the reason. 
It's a hard thing to be me, mamma ; I love you 
and I love my father. Half of me likes the 
city and more than half of me likes the country 
best. If you and papa lived in a desert, though, 
I could live with you both and be happy. 

" Next week I am going to visit Aunt Re- 
becca, because it isn't polite not to visit your 
relations when they come over and talk to your 
father about it all the afternoon, and when 
your father tells you you would better go be- 
cause he expects to be very busy anyway. 

" I haven't had any chance to get acquainted 
with the Bennet family yet. Mrs. Bennet 
comes to do our baking, but she does not talk, 
and she has not asked me to come and see her 
children. I wish she would. 

" Papa and I keep the house in order by 
staying out of doors mostly. 

" I don't care so much about dolls as I used 
to. 



GLADYS WRITES TO HER MOTHER 139 

" The baby robins in the apple tree have 
grown up and flown away. The mother conies 
to see me once in a while, though, and I shall 
miss her dreadfully when she goes south. 

" Papa says we won't be lonesome in the 
winter because we can go in the woods and 
follow up the footprints in the snow. 

" I am making a collection of leaves now, and 
we are going to study trees in the winter when 
we can see the branches easily. 

" Did you ever know, mamma, that ants can't 
hear ? 

" When I go visiting next week, I shall take 
some books about bees and such things so I 
will know what's happening around me. 

11 Mary Ellen and Jane are pretty and almost 
stylish. Mary Ellen told me last Sunday that 
the bird she had in her hat was a crow that 
died, so I forgave her for wearing it. 

" Don't forget to write to papa next week, 
and tell the boys I am sorry they miss me, and 
I miss them, too. 

" Please tell grandma that I am remember- 
ing my manners. I shall not forget to tell 
Aunt Rebecca that I had a pleasant time. 

" Maybe I shall see some children at Aunt 



140 WHAT GLADYS SAW 

Rebecca's — I know I hope so. With love to 

you all, from 

" Gladys Birney. 

" P.S. — Sometimes I think I will have to 
come and see you Christmas. 

" G. B." 




CHAPTER XVI 

A FEW QUESTIONS 

?APA, you are the very nicest 

man I ever saw, and I am glad 

to be home with you. Aunt 

Rebecca is lovely, and you can 

have lots of fun with Mary 

Ellen, but they can't answer questions. Uncle 

Reuben goes to sleep whenever he sits down." 

Gladys laughed merrily. 

" What do you suppose Aunt Rebecca thinks 
about, all the time, papa ? " she continued, seat- 
ing herself on the grass beside her father. 

11 I'll give up," replied the man. He had 
missed the child more than he would have 
thought possible, and was glad to have her 
home once more. 

" Well, sir, she thinks about her work." 
Again Gladys laughed, a joyous ringing 
laugh that made her father forget the mystery 
of the twilight. 

141 



142 WHAT GLADYS SAW 

" Isn't that proper ? " he asked. 

u But, papa, when you do work with your 
hands, like washing dishes, and such things, 
how can you think of just that? Aunt Rebecca 
works all day long in the house, cleaning and 
scrubbing, and I should think she'd have some- 
thing else to think about." 

" But, Gladys, probably she hasn't any time 
to do much thinking/' 

11 Well, papa dear, folks don't think with 
their hands, do they ? When she made cus- 
tard pies one day I asked her where nutmegs 
came from ; she said they came from the village 
store and that was all she cared to know. One 
day at the table when there w r asn't anybody 
saying anything, I asked where we get salt. 
She said it came in salt bags, and everybody 
laughed, so I didn't ask any questions about 
pepper, but I want you to tell me about all 
kinds of pepper, everything you know." 

" What other questions did you ask Aunt 
Rebecca about ? " interrupted her father, with a 
smile broad as Ted Bennet's own. 

" Well, that night we had cocoanut cake, and 
I just asked where cocoanuts grow and who 
gets them ready for cakes. Uncle Reuben 



A FEW QUESTIONS 143 

looked at me kind of funny and then he 
laughed and said if he got a piece of the cake 
and I got a piece, what did we care where the 
trimming came from. Everybody thought that 
was a joke on me, so I didn't ask any questions 
about chocolate when we had chocolate cake 
the very next night But, papa, I couldn't 
even eat chocolate without wondering about it. 

" Tell you what I want to do. I thought 
of it at Aunt Rebecca's. I want to get up a 
book about common things. I'll just take a 
big composition-book and write down all I can 
find out about tea and coffee and such things, 
and then when folks ask me questions, I will 
have some answers all ready for them. 

" One day when I helped Aunt Rebecca 
clean the pantry, I got to thinking about 
spices, and I just had to ask her some things 
about them ; but she said she had to think 
about her work all the time, and never troubled 
herself about where spices came from, not even 
when she was a little girl. 

11 1 feel as if I have just got to find out about 
cloves, papa ; do they grow on plants or bushes 
or trees, or where, and what are they anyway? 
Of course I know what they look like, and that 



144 WHAT GLADYS SAW 

we have them stuck in pickled peaches and 
pears and apples." 

" Cloves were once used for a different pur- 
pose, Gladys ; a necklace of them has been 
found upon a mummy in Egypt What do 
you think of that ? " 

" How did you find it out? " questioned the 
child, with a gesture of surprise. 

'; I read it." 

" Where do cloves grow, papa ? " 

" On trees, Gladys, from thirty to forty feet 

high.- 

" In what countries ? " 

" In nearly all tropical countries, I believe. 
The clove tree is a native of the Southern 
Philippines and the Clove Islands." 

" The Clove Islands," repeated Gladys ; " I 
never heard of them." 

" They are the same as the Moluccas," con- 
tinued her father. " And the Portuguese once 
had control of them, selling cloves to all parts 
of the world. In 1600 the Dutch drove the 
Portuguese out of the islands and destroyed 
every clove tree not under their protection." 

" What made them do that, papa ? " 

11 They wanted to control the clove market. 



A FEW QUESTIONS 145 

They didn't want any clove plantations to be 
in existence but their own." 

" Why, the selfish Dutchmen ! " exclaimed 
Gladys. " Do they own all the clove planta- 
tions in the world now? " 

" No, indeed, child, other nations managed 
to get their share of the young plants and 
seeds, and the cultivation of clove soon spread 
to all warm parts of the world. Most of our 
cloves come from Zanzibar." 

" But, papa, what are the cloves we use ? " 

" They are flower buds of the clove tree, 
Gladys." 

" They must be queer little brown buds," 
said the child. 

" When they are first picked, Gladys, the 
clove buds are red, changing to brown only 
after they have been laid on grass mats and 
dried in the sun for a week or more. They 
are then packed in bags and carried to Zanzi- 
bar." 

" Do you know anything more about cloves, 
papa ? " 

" Yes, Gladys, because a great deal more has 
been written about cloves ; but instead of tell- 
ing you anything further I will show you 



146 WHAT GLADYS SAW 

where to hunt for your own information. I 
would like to have you make a book of com- 
mon things, just as you suggested. It will be 
a pleasant thing to do, or at least I think you 
will find it so, and you can't help learning 
something in the attempt." 

" Papa, you are the biggest comfort in the 
world," declared Gladys, giving her father a 
" bear hug." " You never laugh at me, and 
you do answer questions best of any man I 
ever saw." 

" You had a pleasant time at Aunt Re- 
becca's," asked her father, " even though you 
are glad to get back to papa ? " 

" Oh, yes, Aunt Rebecca let me help her 
cook. I did lots of things. I seeded raisins 
— oh, that makes me think — tell me about 
raisins ; I know they are made from grapes, but 
how ? " 

Gladys certainly didn't know when to stop 
asking questions that night. 




CHAPTER XVII 

A BIT OF COLOR 

O you've found a new bird, have 
you, Gladys ? " 

"Yes, papa, and I'm so glad 
you will come with me to look 
at him. I've seen him for three 
or four days flying along in the bushes, and 
last night, just before supper, he flew to the 
very top of a tree and sung and sung and 
sung." 

" Didn't you ever follow the bird into the 
bushes, little girl ? " 
" No, indeed, papa." 
"Why not?" 
"You know, — snakes." 
" Excuse me, I forgot." 

" Now don't laugh, papa, I know the snakes 
around here won't hurt me, but I'm so afraid of 
them that I wouldn't go where I might see one 
if I could help it, for ten bushels of candy. I 
don't like to even speak of them. 

147 



148 WHAT GLADYS SAW 

" Here's where well find the bird, papa." 

" All right, Gladys, I'll whistle for him: 1 

Great was the child's astonishment when the 
bird appeared at the edge of the thicket in 
response to the man's peculiar whistle. 

" Can you describe his plumage, Gladys ? " he 
whispered. 

" Oh, easily. His head and neck and back and 
tail are black. The rest of him s white only 
along the side under his short wings where the 
feathers are red — I should call it red — there 
he goes ; now you can't see him — there he 
is again. That's the way he does all the time, 
papa, — goes dodging through the bushes say- 
ing just one word — I don't know what it is. 

" Let's go up on the side of the hill where 
we can see the sun shining on the tree-tops, 
and then you tell me all you know about that 
bird, if you please. Don't you wish we could 
have summer forever ? " she continued, when 
they were comfortably seated on the slope. 

" A day like this would tempt one to make 
such a wish," replied her father, " but we can 
preserve the memory of this perfection to 
brighten the winter." 

" Yes, sir, that's true. I'll remember the way 



A BIT OF COLOR 149 

the air smells — so sweet and fresh — whenever 
I think of that pretty bird. What kind of a 
bird is it, papa ? " 

" It has several names, Gladys, being known 
as the Ground Robin, the Towhee or the 
Chewink." 

" Oh, the Chewink ! " exclaimed the child ; 
" is that James Whitcomb Riley's chewink ? 
you know he wrote the dearest little poem 
about birds, and this is the chewink verse: — 

" < The old Bob White and Chipbird ; 
The Flicker and Chee-wink, 
And the little hopty-skip bird, 
Along the river brink.' 

I can't remember just what comes next, but 

the last verse is : — 

" ' The Jaybird and the Bluebird, 
The Sap-suck and the Wren, 
The cock-a-doodle-doo bird, 
And our old settin' hen.' " 

The man smiled. Gladys interested him 
more than all the wild life on his farm ; this he 
admitted to himself. 

" Isn't it fun to find new birds? I believe 
I am learning a new one every day. There is 
no use for me to try to find the chewink's nest, 



150 WHAT GLADYS SAW 

though, because I s'pose it's in the bushes, and 
anyway, I'd tear my dresses trying to get 
through such tangled places, and I might step 
on nests and knock down other ones and — 
well, I'm not going in the bushes, anyway, so 
please tell me about the chewink's nest." 

" The birds will be just as well satisfied," 
assented her father, "for the chewink's nest is 
on the ground beneath the bushes. You cer- 
tainly might step on it. The eggs are white, 
speckled with reddish brown. The chewinks 
are always scratching among the dead leaves 
on the ground for insects except when they 
sing ; then they do as you observed last night 
— make a business of singing on a tree- 
top." 

" Excuse me, papa," interrupted Gladys, 
springing to her feet, " but there is Ted Ben- 
net, and he is throwing stones. What do you 
suppose he is throwing stones at ? " 

" Hard to tell, Gladys ; Ted Bennet is a bad 
boy." 

" Look, papa, look quick — it's something 
high up in the trees — maybe it's a poor squir- 
rel. I don't see how boys can be so cruel. 
Oh, papa! There's what he is after — that 



A BIT OF COLOR 151 

beautiful red bird way up in the tree-top ! I'm 
going down there and make him stop." 

"You stay here, Gladys; I'll go myself." 

The child made no attempt to follow her 
father. His tones frightened her. 

Ted Bennet, alert as a squirrel, saw the man 
coming, dropped his stone and fled. Gladys 
was thankful that he escaped her father's wrath. 
She scarcely dared think what might have 
happened if her father had caught him then. 
She felt sure it would have been something 
terrible, by the expression on his face when he 
returned. 

" The young rascal ! " he exclaimed. " He's a 
thoroughly bad boy. If I ever catch him throw- 
ing stones at another bird on this farm, I'll — " 

Gladys listened breathlessly, but as her 
father didn't explain his intentions, she took 
courage. She couldn't forget that Ted Bennet 
was the boy who saved her from the old sheep. 

11 Perhaps, papa," she ventured, " if Ted Ben- 
net had a chance to go to Band of Mercy meet- 
ings, he might be a better boy." 

" It's a pity he can't have the chance, then," 
grumbled her father, throwing himself upon 
the grass. 



152 WHAT GLADYS SAW 

" Oh, there's the bird again," cried Gladys, 
standing on tip-toe in her eagerness. " Isn't 
that a sight ! Red, papa, scarlet ! Only look ! " 

" Yes, child, it is the Scarlet Tanager, whose 
bright coat is a target. Such a bit of color on 
wings is worth walking miles to see." 

" Why does it stay so high, papa ? " 

" To escape its enemies, Gladys ; birds with 
bright plumage always fly high. Ted Bennet 
couldn't have reached it with a stone ; but when 
he grows a few years older and has a gun, it 
will be a different thing. A bird in a scarlet 
coat isn't safe among savages. No wonder the 
Scarlet Tanagers are rare." 

u Where are their nests, papa? I should 
think everybody could see the bird on the nest, 
or is the mother bird a different color ? " 

" You guessed right that time, Gladys, the 
mother bird is olive green, and her nest is 
usually on the branch of an old oak tree." 

" What color are the eggs, — are they red ? " 

" No, the eggs are pale, greenish blue, though 
marked with reddish brown — they are usually 
three or four in number." 

" Tell me something more about the scarlet 
bird, papa ; why does he stay in that one place 
so long? " 



A BIT OF COLOR 153 

" He is probably watching his nest, Gladys. 
The Scarlet Tanager is devoted to his family, 
and is brave in defence of his home. If he 
were nearer, you would see that his wings and 
tail are black. In the fall, before he goes 
south, the Scarlet Tanager changes his suit, 
appearing or rather disappearing in russet 
green." 

" Does he spend the winter in Florida? " 
" No, he goes to Central or South America." 
" What makes you get up, papa, is it time to 
go home ? I don't like to leave for fear I will 
never see that beauty of a bird again." 

11 It is a wonderful bit of color, isn't it, 
Gladys; but you will probably see it often 
enough since you know where to look. That 
is the first Scarlet Tanager I have seen in our 
woods for years, and I trust it is safer here than 
it would be anywhere else in this neighborhood." 
" Do the Tanagers sing, papa ? " 
" Yes, they are fairly good singers." 
" If singing makes them any happier," said 
the child, " I am glad they can sing, but I am 
sure they don't need to. It is enough to look 
at such a bird without asking for music." 
" I agree with you," laughed her father. 







CHAPTER XVIII 

A TRAGEDY 

!T was unusual for Gladys to sit still 
and say nothing for five minutes, 
especially on a radiant morning 
when the outdoor world was all in 
tune. Her father pretended to be 
dismayed by her silence. 

" Trouble is, I don't know what to do to 
make that little Nora Bennet happy," she said, 
in reply to his questioning. 

" Who told you about Nora Bennet? " 
" Aunt Rebecca took me to her house twice, 
and I have thought about her ever since. 
Don't you suppose she might be cured, papa, if 
the Bennets weren't poor folks ? " 

" No, Gladys, everything was done for Nora 
that could be done when she was a baby ; she 
was pronounced incurable then by the best 
authorities in the country." 

" Did the doctors come out here, papa ? " 

154 



A TRAGEDY 155 

11 No, no, she was sent away for months and 
months. Everything that money could do was 
done for poor little Nora." 

" But, papa, where did the Bennets get 
enough money to do so much?" 

" Gladys, dear. Have you no more faith in 
your father than that? Do you suppose he 
would allow a little child to be a cripple if he 
could help it ? " 

Gladys put her arms around her fathers 
neck, and kissed him. 

" The Bennets aren't your relations, papa." 

" They are just as much my relations as the 
other folks on my farm, aren't they ? I 
wouldn't let a dumb creature suffer if it were 
in my power to prevent it." 

" But, papa, you never go calling on the Ben- 
nets, do you ? " 

" No, not exactly." The man laughed. " I 
will leave that part of my duty for you to per- 
form, Gladys." 

" Does Aunt Rebecca know it was you who 
tried to have Nora cured ? " 

" I hope not." 

11 Does mamma know ? " 

11 Not from my telling her." 



156 WHAT GLADYS SAW 

" Papa, you are a queer man." 

" So I have heard before." 

Gladys gave him a comforting hug, adding 
emphatically, " But you are the best man in 
the world. 

" Aunt Rebecca told me that the Bennets 
can't help being poor. She says Ted used to 
be always breaking his neck or his arms or his 
legs, and the other children used to catch all 
the diseases they had in the village, like whoop- 
ing cough and scarlet fever and things, and 
she says Mrs. Bennet used to get almost dis- 
couraged." 

" It's true, Gladys," laughed her father. " All 
the afflictions in the country have been visited 
upon that Bennet tribe." 

" Tribe ! why, papa ! " The voice of the 
river added a protest in the brief silence fol- 
lowing. 

Gladys sighed. " I don't know what to do 
to make Nora happy. Mary Ellen taught her 
to read and to sew, but she is half sick all the 
time, and I don't see how she can have much 
fun. The boys have fixed up a queer old box- 
cart for her, but she had rather be in the house 
with her mother. One day when I was there, 



A TRAGEDY 157 

the baby was asleep, and Nora was rocking the 
cradle and keeping the flies off the baby at the 
same time. It had on a pink calico dress, 
papa, just think of that — a baby in pink 
calico ! " 

" What should it have worn ? " 

" White, papa, of course ; who ever heard of 
a baby wearing anything else ! Ted is always 
ragged, but Aunt Rebecca says that can't be 
helped — that he would be ragged by night if 
he was dressed in a new suit of clothes in the 
morning. 

" Poor little Nora can't walk a step and 
never sees anything, only those young ones 
and that little house. I just wish I were rich ! 
I'd buy Nora a carload of toys and some 
silk dresses and new hats and a lace parasol." 

" You can do something better than that 
for Nora, my darling, — something I've often 
thought of, — but fathers don't know how to 
carry out their plans very well. I think a 
little lady like you can do wonders for Nora." 

" Tell me how, quick, and I'll do it, if it takes 
every cent I've got in my bank." 

" Money can't do everything, — it can't buy 
happiness, Gladys, that comes from within. 






158 WHAT GLADYS SAW 



Do you know what makes you a happy 
child ? " 

" Why, I've got a father and a mother, and 
pretty near everything I want, and nobody is- 
ever cross to me — and I'm well all the time. 
I don't know how I could help being happy." 

" A great many children have all these 
blessings, Gladys, and are unhappy and dis- 
contented. The reason you are happy here 
on this farm is because you are interested in 
everything you see. Go to little Nora and 
open her eyes." 

"She can see, papa — I don't know what 
you mean." 

" Tell her about the robin's home." 

" She must know all about robins." 

" You will find that she doesn't. Gladys, 
I do not suppose that child has ever thought 
about the birds." 

" Why, papa Birney, and she has lived among 
them all her life ? " 

" True, Gladys, — she has lived among them 
as most folks do, — she knows there are birds ; 
but I doubt if she can name half a dozen, 
and I am sure she knows nothing of their 
habits. Tell her what you know about the 



A TRAGEDY 159 

bees and butterflies. Teach her all you can 
of the wild flowers. Interest her in the ways 
of flies and mosquitoes. Nothing is too in- 
significant to be studied. That child will 
probably live years and years in that tiny 
cottage among the trees, and if her eyes are 
open to the beauties and wonders of nature, 
her life will be full of interest, and that little 
dull face of hers will grow bright as my 
daughter's own. Go over there, Gladys, and 
awaken that child's soul." 

14 Dear me, I wouldn't know how to begin," 
objected Gladys. 

44 Why not tell her about the Scarlet Tanager 
we saw yesterday? You might give her the 
colored pictures of the birds and their nest 
I found for you last night. Get ready and 
go, little daughter." 

A little later, Gladys knocked timidly at the 
open door of the cottage. Four little Bennets 
who were playing in the yard, watched her 
with open mouths. The big sister, Rose, 
responded to her knock, appearing at the door 
with the baby in her arms. 

44 He has the colic," she said, "that's why 
he is crying so hard. Won't you come in ? " 






160 WHAT GLADYS SAW 



" I came to see Nora," ventured Gladys. 

" Mamma will be so glad," responded Rose. 
" There, there, there," she crooned, trying to 
soothe the screaming baby. " Sister's got him. 
Sit down, Gladys. I was afraid you'd think 
he had something catching. Nora is in the 
kitchen. Mamma will bring her right in. 
See, baby, little girl came to see the baby — 
poor little darling got the tummie-ache — there 
— there — there." 

The baby stopped crying, making a lunge 
toward Gladys. 

" Want to see little girl ? " continued Rose. 
u Bess-e-old heart, can't he show toofl-uns ? " 

The next thing Gladys knew, the baby 
grabbed a fistful of her bright hair and was 
pulling with all his might. The performance 
was evidently a colic cure, for the little 
fellow began to kick and laugh and crow with 
the same vigor which had rendered his crying 
effective. 

Fortunately for Gladys, Mrs. Bennet came 
to her rescue before she had gone beyond the 
laughing point. Rose, being fourteen, and 
devoted to the baby, could see nothing but fun 
in his hair-pulling tendencies. 



A TRAGEDY 161 

" Wouldn't Nora like to go out under the 
trees ? " suggested Gladys. 

" I wish she would," interposed Mrs. Bennet ; 
"she ought to be outdoors. Won't you go 
out with Gladys ? I have been trying all the 
morning to get her out with the other 
children." 

" It is beautiful under the trees, Nora," 
insisted Gladys. " You can look up and see 
the blue sky through the leaves, and hear the 
birds singing, and see the butterflies flutter- 
ing through the air — and look here! I've 
brought you some pictures, and I want to tell 
you what I saw yesterday in the green woods." 

Nora smiled at her mother, who lifted the 
child easily and carried her out of doors, 
placing her in a swinging seat that Ted had 
made. 

"The children all love her," explained Mrs. 
Bennet, adjusting the foot-rest and back of the 
swing to be sure it w r as comfortable. " Ted 
made this for her last winter, — planned it all 
himself, — and it ain't a bad seat." 

Again Nora smiled, and when her mother 
returned to the cottage, the four little Bennets 
gathered around, still with their mouths open. 



162 WHAT GLADYS SAW 

" Why don't you like to be outdoors, Nora?" 
began Gladys. 

" Nothing to watch, only the children ; and 
they get hurt and get into mischief, and I can't 
go to them. I had rather stay in with my 
mother and Rose." 

" I had rather be outdoors where I can 
watch the birds and see things grow," said 
Gladys, at the same time passing Nora the 
picture of the Scarlet Tanager. 

" I saw him yesterday in the tree-tops. He is 
brave and he is happy because in one of the 
oak trees, his little mate, the mother bird and 
all his children are cuddled in a little nest. The 
father bird and the mother bird love their babies 
just the way our fathers and mothers love us." 

Nora listened, while the four little Bennets, 
drawing nearer, opened their mouths wider than 
before. 

" The mother bird dresses in green so she 
can hide easily among the leaves in the woods. 
She is always so afraid that something will 
happen to the handsome father bird in the red 
coat, that she begs and begs him to keep out 
of sight. She loves him dearly. When they 
built their nest, she wouldn't let him help a bit, 



A TRAGEDY 163 

for fear his enemies would see him and kill 
him when he wasn't looking. 

" ' If you love me, Father Tanager,' she used 
to say, 'do take care of yourself, for I don't know 
how I could live without you.' Now Father 
Tanager thought the mother bird wanted to 
make the nest all alone because she could do 
it better than he could, so he let her have her 
own way — only he watched her all the while 
she worked, to protect her from enemies. He 
loved her dearly. She thought it was silly for 
him to follow her every time she went for a 
strip of bark, or a bit of grass, but he said if 
anything happened to her, he didn't know 
how he could live without her. She didn't 
make a very good nest, just because that 
father bird bothered her so. He thought it 
was perfect, though, and how he did sing 
about it. 

" After a while, when the eggs were laid, he 
used to get food for the mother bird, and sing 
to her while she kept the eggs warm under her 
soft wings. If ever she left the nest for a min- 
ute, he watched those precious eggs most care- 
fully, for fear a Blue Jay or a Crow would get 
them. 



164 WHAT GLADYS SAW 

" By and by, the little birds came out of the 
shell, and the father bird and the mother bird 
were too happy for anything. They talked 
soft baby talk to the nestlings, brought them 
food, and cared for them night and day. 

" Soon the father bird and the mother bird 
are going to teach the babies to fly, and the 
father bird is so glad they are safe and growing 
so strong that he watches and sings most all 
the time. That is how I happened to see him 
— a flash of scarlet among the green trees." 

It was impossible to tell whether Nora was 
interested or not. Neither she nor the four 
little Bennets ventured a word. 

" I feel pretty sure," Gladys went on, " that 
the mother bird says her prayers just after sun- 
set every day. I believe when she cuddles the 
precious nestlings under her wings, she thinks 
of the brave bird in the red coat, and prays, 
' Take care of Father Tanager.' " 

Ted's voice broke the stillness following 
these words. He came rushing through the 
orchard too excited to notice the presence of 
Gladys, shouting in tones of triumph, " See 
what I've brought you, Nora — killed it with a 
stone ! " 



A TRAGEDY 165 

Into Nora's lap he tossed a bunch of scarlet 
feathers. The child picked it up, and knew 
she held the dead body of Father Tanager. 

Gladys sprang to her feet, choking with grief 
and anger. Before she could say a word, Nora, 
stroking the little warm body, began to cry 
piteously. 

The four little Bennets clustered about her, 
touching the Scarlet Tanager and wailing, 
" The poor little thing, the poor little thing." 

Gladys knew then that her story had been 
heard. 

" Thought you'd like him," pouted Ted ; 
11 been trying to kill him for days so you could 
see what he looked like. Thought you'd like 
them pretty red feathers for your doll hats." 

Ted walked awav with his head in the air 

— walked away kicking the stones in his path, 
and whistling. 

For the moment, Gladys forgot her own 
grief in her attempt to comfort poor little Nora. 
11 Nobody can make him alive again, now," 
she sobbed. " He'll never fly again — he's dead, 

— dead." 

The four little Bennets lifted up their voices 
and wept, whereupon a change came over Nora. 



166 WHAT GLADYS SAW 

" Listen, children," said she. " Jake, hold 
this little dead father bird in your hand, and 
promise me that you will never kill a bird again 
as long as you live." 

" Sure, pop — cross my heart, I never will," 
vowed Jake. 

" Sammie, take him in your hands, now, and 
promise that you will never kill a bird." 

" Killing birds is what I won't never do," he 
promised. 

"Jimmie, you hold Father Tanager, and 
promise that you'll never kill a bird." 

" I'll never kill a bird," announced Jimmie, in 
solemn style. 

" Hold your little hands, now, Tommie ; and 
Jimmie, you let him take the little dead father. 
Isn't it dreadful, Tommie, to see him dead, 
dead — his eyes shut tight and his wings still, 
while all his children are waiting for him to 
come home ? " 

" Drefful ! " agreed Tommie. 

" Promise sister that you will never kill a bird." 

" Can't frow stones good, anyway." The little 
fellow's face was beaming with mischief. 

" Tommie, promise sister. You know poor 
sister can't walk." 



A TRAGEDY 167 

" Oh, I won't frow stones nor kill nuffin," he 
declared. Then, because Gladys gave him an 
unsolicited hug, he shouted, " Get out ! " — using 
his fists at the same time. 

Everybody laughed. 

" Reminds me of signing the pledge at a 
temperance meeting," said Gladys. 

" Let's have a funeral, now," she suggested, 
"and bury Father Tanager in style." In this 
way, cheerfulness was restored. 

When Gladys left the children, they begged 
her to come again soon. 




CHAPTER XIX 

MEETING THE ENEMY 

LOWLY Gladys walked along, 
thinking sorrowfully of the Scarlet 
Tanager. The world had lost a 
bit of brightness. The child felt 
it as a personal loss, and walked 
with downcast head. While she was with 
Nora, Gladys had tried to keep the tears back. 
She had meant to make Nora happy, and it 
distressed her to feel that she had failed. 

" I guess, though," said Gladys, addressing 
the dust, " that she did enjoy the funeral." 

Suddenly Ted Bennet appeared before her. 
He had been hiding in the bushes by the road. 
There was a hard, defiant look in his face, 
causing Gladys to recall her father's words that 
Ted Bennet was a bad boy. 

He planted himself in the middle of the road, 
and waited. 

" Let me pass," demanded Gladys, filled with 

168 



MEETING THE ENEMY 169 

wrath by the sight of him — the boy who had 
killed her Scarlet Tanager. 

" Not until you promise that you won't go 
and tattle about that there bird. Cross your 
heart, and hope to die, or I'll skin you alive." 

Gladys was thoroughly frightened. A boy 
who would kill a bird might be capable of any 
desperate deed. 

" Let me pass, I say ! " she repeated, holding 
her head with lofty firmness. 

" No, Ted Bennet, you killed my father's 
Scarlet Tanager and you ought to have to tell 
him yourself. Let me go home." 

" If you don't promise not to tattle," threat- 
ened the boy, flourishing his fist in Gladys's 
face, " I'll chase you with a pocketful of 
snakes. Cry-baby, cry-baby ! Now will you 
promise ? " 

" No, I won't. You let me go home or you'll 
wish you had, you bad boy, you ! " 

" Don't you dare to come a step nearer, 
Gladys Birney, or I'll stuff little toads down 
your neck. Will you promise ? " 

" No, I won't, and don't you dare touch me.'' 

" I'll set the old sheep on you." 

" Who's afraid of him ! " 



170 WHAT GLADYS SAW 

" Oh, yes, who's afraid of him ! Cry-baby, 
cry-baby, tattle-tale ! Look-a-here ! If you don't 
promise, I'll let the old hooking cow out of the 
pasture." 

" Who cares if you do ! I say, you let me 
go by, you wicked, bad boy. Don't you touch 
me ! 

Gladys recoiled. Ted Bennet's hands were 
not only dirty, but they were cruel hands — 
hands that could stone birds. They shouldn't 
touch her. 

" Why, Gladys Birney ! standing in the mid- 
dle of the road talking to a boy! I am sur- 
prised. I'd like to know what you two were 
talking about so earnestly you didn't see me 
coming." 

" Aunt Rebecca," gasped Gladys, " I am so 
glad to see you." 

Ted Bennet wasn't. 

" I'll get even with you yet," he muttered 
under his breath. Then, making a frightful 
face at Gladys, — a face unseen by Aunt Re- 
becca, — he disappeared. 

" He is a bad boy, Gladys," cautioned Aunt 
Rebecca. " I don't believe your father'd like to 
have you talking with him. I'm glad I hap- 
pened along just as I did." 



MEETING THE ENEMY 171 

" So am I," echoed Gladys. " I wish you 
were going clear home with me, Aunt Re- 
becca." 

" I'd like to, Gladys, but I'll have to leave 
you here. I have just been over to see a 
neighbor for a few minutes. I wouldn't run 
so, Gladys, in the hot sun. Whatever has 
come over the child ! " 

" I'm in a dreadful hurry to get home, Aunt 
Rebecca," called Gladys, as she flew over the 
ground, scarcely letting her feet touch the earth 
in her haste. 

"Well, what success, little daughter?" was 
her father's greeting. " Did you manage to 
get Nora interested in the Scarlet Tanager? " 

11 Yes, she got pretty much interested," ad- 
mitted Gladys. 

Then she blushed such a rosy red that her 
father asked no more questions. He knew 
that something was wrong, and waited for 
Gladys to tell him of her own free will. 

In the meantime, Ted Bennet was waiting 
too — waiting to get even with Gladys. 




CHAPTER XX 

MEADOW FOLKS 

?APA, I wish you'd tell me about 
some happy little animals." 

Gladys had followed her father 
about all the afternoon. There 
was safety in his shadow and 
nowhere else. 

"Lucky thing for a certain little friend of 
mine that you reminded me of him." 
" What do you mean, papa ? " 
" I caught somebody this morning, and de- 
tained him for your benefit. He ought to be 
given his liberty now." 

" What do you mean, papa ? Tell me quickly." 

" He's down in the meadow on a piece of 

rail fence that is placed upon the ground. 

Over him is an old tin basin that was lying 

near when I made the capture. Lest the basin 

172 






MEADOW FOLKS 173 

might walk off, it is kept in place by a heavy 
stone." 

" Whoever he is, he'll smother, won't he, 
papa r 

" No, he can't smother, because the basin is 
full of air-holes. He's somebody young ladies 
are afraid of." 

" O dear, papa, I hope he isn't a — you know 
what." 

" Guess again, Gladys ; he is one of the 
prettiest little creatures you ever saw." 

" Oh, I couldn't guess in a thousand years. 
Is he a happy little animal ? " 

" He and all his folks appear to be happy." 

" What does he look like ? Is he little or 
big? Oh, papa, there's Ted Bennet!" 

" What of it, Gladys? If you wish, I'll ask 
him to come with us." 

" Oh, but I don't wish." Neither did Ted. 
He walked away fast as lie could, appearing 
afraid he might be sent for. 

"This little creature," resumed the man, ■" is 
nocturnal in its habits, and is easily caught 
in the daytime. His ears are large, and he 
has beautiful big eyes. His dainty feet are 
white." 



174 WHAT GLADYS SAW 

" Did I ever see one, papa ? Will he 
bite ? " 

" I do not know whether you ever saw 
one or not, but they are harmless little 
fellows;' 

"111 give up, papa; I can't guess." 

Down on her knees went Gladys by the side 
of the old tin basin, watching eagerly while her 
father removed the stone and disclosed to view 
a field-mouse. 

" Poor little fellow ! " commented Gladys, 
without offering to touch it. " What a little 
beauty it is. Such lovely eyes. I wouldn't 
hurt you, little mouse ; you may run away to 
your children, if you want to. There he goes, 
papa, — the cunning little thing. Tell me 
about him, please. What will become of him 
in the winter ? " 

" The field-mice have the gayest kind of 
times in the winter, Gladys, because the snow 
hides them from their enemies. Now they 
scarcely dare show themselves, even at night, 
for fear of owls and foxes. They try to keep 
under cover of bushes and tall grasses ; but in 
the winter they have tunnels under the snow, 
and go where they please without fear. 







d 




tfc*t^C*>er£n4 



"what a little BEAUTY IT IS" 



MEADOW FOLKS 175 

" In the fall they lay up stores for the 
winter, hiding grain under stones and filling 
depressions in the ground with nuts." 

" Papa, was this field-mouse one of the kind 
I have heard about — that shell beechnuts and 
hide them in a hollow tree ? " 

" The very mouse, Gladys." 

" Do you s pose he might live in a corn- 
field ? " 

" Why, certainly." 

" Then, papa, he's the mouse we sing about 
at the Band of Mercy meetings. The mouse 
song must surely be about him." 

" Sing it for me, little daughter." 

" ' There was once a little mouse that had made a snug hole 
In a corn-field belonging to good Farmer Cole, 
In which everything grew that was pleasant to eat, 
From beans, oats, and barley, to red and white wheat. 

" ' At the doorway of his house, on a carpet of green, 
There this field-mouse oft sat and beheld the fair scene. 
" This is truly a very fine corn-field/' said he ; 
" And doubtless was planted on purpose for me." 

" ' So he nibbled and he ate, then he rolled on the ground ; 
He was blithe as a lark, and his sleep, too, was sound, 
As he lay in his hole, far from danger and noise, 
Not hunted by dogs nor annoyed by bad boys. 



176 WHAT GLADYS SAW 

" ' Farmer Cole, good worthy man, saw him day after day ; 
But he never attempted to harm or to slay : 
" For," said he, " since we've plenty, and God gave it all, 
We'll spare a few grains for a creature so small." ' " 

While Gladys was singing, the field-mouse 
came forth from his hiding-place and seemed 
to listen. When she finished, he disappeared. 



CHAPTER XXI 



TED BENNETS REVENGE 




HE fear of meeting Ted Bennet 
kept Gladys from wandering about 
the farm as usual. She lived in 
constant dread of the boy, until, as 
the days went by, and he kept out 
of sight, she hoped that he had forgotten her. 
The pond always had attractions for Gladys. 
A little at a time she had been learning about 
the ways of its inhabitants — the frogs, mud- 
turtles, and the queer insects whose early life 
was spent at the bottom. 

" Papa, where do you suppose Ted Bennet 
is ? " she asked one forenoon, when a longing 
to visit the pond w r as strong within her. 

11 His mother sent him to the village — why? " 
" Oh, nothing ; I just wondered." 
" Gladys," said her father, " didn't I hear 
Mrs. Bennet, when she was over yesterday, 
asking you to go and see Nora again ? " 

177 



178 WHAT GLADYS SAW 

" I guess you did ; yes, sir." 

" I can't understand why you don't go. Mrs. 
Bennet told me that the children have watched 
for you every day, and that Nora wants you to 
tell her more stories." 

" I don't like to go there very well," faltered 
Gladys. 

" Hadn't you better tell your father the 
reason ? " 

Gladys shook her head. " I've got a terrible 
secret," she admitted. " I wish you knew it, 
but I can't tell it, honest truth." 

" It seems to me," suggested Mr. Birney, 
" that a little girl ought to trust her father 
with her secrets. As for Nora, I did hope my 
daughter was brave enough and true enough 
to stick to her undertakings. It would be 
noble and unselfish to go to see Nora for the 
sake of giving her pleasure, especially if you 
no longer enjoy doing so to please yourself. 
I'm afraid you've disappointed your father, 
Gladys." 

The child counted the dandelion blossoms 
at her feet; counted them over and over — 
thinking vaguely that the world had suddenly 
become a hard place to live in. After a long 



TED BENNETS REVENGE 179 

silence, Gladys looked up, in time to see her 
father walking away across the fields. 

" I am sure I don't know what to do or what 
to say," she confided to the dandelions. " One 
good thing, I don't have to be afraid of Ted 
Bennet this morning. I'm going to the pond." 

Gladys couldn't be unhappy long at a time. 
The sunshine and the summer air restored her 
spirits with magic power. 

" The w^ater is alive with water-striders! " she 
exclaimed, climbing upon the trunk of a tree, 
which had fallen directly over the water. 
After finding a comfortable position among 
the branches of the tree, Gladys amused her- 
self for a moment by studying the reflection of 
the leaves on the still mirror of the pond. 
Dragon-flies darted through the sunshine. 
Near by grasshoppers and crickets kept up 
their ceaseless din, while the frogs called to 
one another among the cat-tails and from half- 
buried logs. 

Water-striders were skimming here, there, 
everywhere over the surface of the pond. 
Gladys saw a company of them gathering 
among the lily-pads. 

11 1 do believe," she told herself, " that they 



180 WHAT GLADYS SAW 

are talking over old times ; maybe, though, 
they are telling each other where they intend 
to spend the winter. Let me see — some of 
them will hide under the banks of the pond in 
the mud, or under the leaves; others will go 
way down to the bottom of the water and hide 
under stones. In the spring, when the weather 
is warm, up they'll come and lay their eggs. 
The eggs will be stuck on the leaves and stems 
of water plants — on the pond-lilies, I guess. 
Wish I could see a water-strider's egg. Papa 
says they are long, round eggs, and that the lit- 
tle water-strider comes out through a slit in 
the side of the egg instead of pushing off a cap 
at the end, the way other water-bugs do. 

" Look at them go. They really seem to 
row over the surface of the water, using their 
hind legs as oars, just as the books say they 
do. You grasshoppers better be careful not 
to fall in the pond, because the water-striders 
feed on the juices of folks like you that do 
tumble in. 

" Papa told me that the legs and body of the 
water-strider are covered with tiny hairs, which 
keep the little bugs from getting wet. I wish 
I could catch one so I could see for myself. I 



TED BENNET'S REVENGE 181 

am going to crawl out a little further on the 
tree." 

Gladys had become deeply interested in 
watching the water-striders lift their legs in 
the air to dry them, when she heard a twig 
snap. Instantly she thought of Ted Bennet. 
When she looked around, her worst fears were 
realized. There he stood, in his freckles and 
rags, a veritable genius of evil. A grin of tri- 
umph lighted his face. 

" Ain't you sorry now you wouldn't promise ? " 
Ted watched his victim's face grow white. 

" I told you I'd get even with you, and now 
I've got the chance. I've got you where you 
can't get away. Cry-baby ! " 

Gladys waited in dumb despair. She uttered 
a low cry of horror, when the boy climbed upon 
the trunk of the tree. 

11 I rather think I'll give you a ducking you'll 
remember, miss." 

Gladys shivered visibly. The water in the 
pond was black. 

11 Thought you was smart, didn't you, spoil- 
ing the present I worked so hard to get for 
Nora. I'd 'a' let you off, though, if you'd 'a' 
promised not to tell." 



182 WHAT GLADYS SAW 

" I didn't tell, Ted ; please, let me go 
home." 

" You expect me to believe that yarn, do 
you? I tell you right here, it won't work. I 
know you told, or you'd 'a' promised not to tell. 
You needn't put on any of your city airs, miss, 
out here. There comes a darning-needle, and 
he'll sew up your mouth, sure, if you keep on 
tellin' lies." 

A sudden hope that her father might be 
near prompted Gladys to call him loudly as 
she could. 

" You'll get your ducking, miss, if it's the 
last thing I do in this world ; so just hang on 
for dear life. Here goes ! " 

The light tree bent under the additional 
weight of the boy. 

" This is going to make the best kind of a 
spring board. Move along a little nearer the 
end there. Move, I say, or I'll make you ! " 

Gladys moved. Once she was swept into 
the pond, and when the tree sprang back into 
place, she was safe, though dripping with the 
slimy water. 

Ted laughed. 

The second time he tried to bend the tree- 



TED BENNET'S REVENGE 183 

top, the whole trunk fell with a splash into the 
water. 

Gladys was at the bottom of the pond. 

Ted Bennet didn't laugh that time. When 
he saw the golden head disappear, terror seized 
him. In a moment he had dragged Gladys, 
choking, gasping, to the bank. 

" Knew enough to keep your mouth shut for 
once, didn't you ? " he grumbled, as she tried 
to shake the mud from her clothes. 

" You bad boy ! You wicked boy ! " 

Ted, wet to the skin himself, sneaked home the 
back way, allowing Gladys the same privilege. 

Mr. Birney was nowhere to be found. Gladys 
called and called him, determined to tell the 
whole story of Ted Bennet's cruelty. 

It wasn't easy for the child to change her 
clothes without any help ; but she had to do it. 
Later, she found a note from her father, explain- 
ing his absence, and telling her that he would 
return in the afternoon. 

Tired, and feeling utterly forsaken, Gladys 
threw herself upon the couch in her father's 
sitting room, and slept until long shadows 
marked the hour upon the lawn. Her father 
was beside her when she awoke. 



184 WHAT GLADYS SAW 

" Gladys, this is the first time I ever knew 
you to sleep in the daytime. What's wrong ? " 

" Did I go to sleep ? " questioned the child. 
" Oh, yes, I remember ; I fell in the pond, and 
afterward I was so tired I didn't know what to 
do." 

" You fell in the pond ! " exclaimed her father. 
'' How did you get out ? " 

" Ted Bennet pulled me out" Gladys 
frowned. 

" I'm glad to hear something good of that 
boy," declared the man. " I am beginning to 
believe he may become a respectable citizen in 
the course of a century." 

" What makes you laugh, papa ? " 

" The memory of my encounter with the 
young rascal this morning will make me smile 
ten years from now. I must have met him, 
Gladys, immediately after he pulled you out of 
the water, for he looked like a wet kitten — a 
half-starved, stray kitten at that. He began to 
run when he saw me, so, being unable to catch 
him any other way, I collared him and gave him 
a good lecture about trying to kill birds. He 
looked so sheepish and thoroughly ashamed of 
himself, that I relented, feeling that perhaps I 



TED BENNET'S REVENGE 185 

was too severe in my judgment of the boy. 
Perhaps, Gladys, he didn't intend to kill the 
tanager, and was throwing stones that day 
without dreaming that he could hit the bird." 

" Papa Birney, don't you let him fool you 
that w r ay. He is a wicked, bad boy, and I 
know he intended to kill our tanager.'' 

" Possibly, but we may as well give him the 
benefit of the doubt, my child." 

" I think he ought to be put in jail ! " an- 
nounced Gladys. 

Mr. Birney laughed. " If you could have 
seen him this morning, Gladys, you might 
change your mind. He evidently expected a 
thrashing. Finally, I talked to the boy, just as 
I often have to you. I tried to make him see 
how much better it is to study the wild life 
about us than to destroy it. If you will believe 
it, before I let him go, that hardened youngster 
had promised me that he would never throw 
another stone at a bird as long as he lives." 

" Ted Bennet promised you that, papa ? " 
There was more than ordinary surprise in the 
tones. 

" Yes, Gladys, and it was an unsolicited 
promise. It seems that Nora has been talking 



186 WHAT GLADYS SAW 

to him. Now I feel that I am responsible in a 
great measure for that boy's attitude toward 
creation in general. I have been too absorbed 
in my own pursuits to try to influence him as I 
might have." 

Just at dusk, when Gladys and her father 
were sitting by the bank of the river, talking 
about fishes, Ted Bennet appeared. In his 
hands he carried a great bunch of pond-lilies. 
These he thrust toward Gladys, saying, as she 
took them : — 

" Maybe I'm bad, but there ain't nothin' bad 
about them lilies." 

Then he was gone. 




CHAPTER XXII 

MR. BIRNEY SIGNS A PAPER 

?APA, I'm going over to tell Nora 
and the little Bennets about the 
bobolinks — because I found so 
many bobolink pictures in an old 
magazine. " 
" Glad to hear it." 

" Papa, I wish I had a lot of brown paper." 
" What for?" 

" So Nora could make a bird-picture scrap- 
book." 

" That's a good idea, Gladys ; it will give the 
poor child something to do, and something to 
think about. Let me see — here is a blank 
book for her, Gladys, with large, white pages; 
and here is a bottle of library paste to go with 
it." 

" Oh, thank you ; it will make her so happy, 
you dearest father. Now I want to ask one 
favor of you." 
M Name it." 

187 



188 WHAT GLADYS SAW 

" Will you do what I want you to, honest 
truth ? " 

" Certainly, if you don't ask too much. You 
must have a little mercy on your father." 

" Well, sign your name right here. Now, 
isn't that an easy thing to do ? Be sure and 
make the writing plain," cautioned the child, as 
the man took the pen offered him, and wrote 
his name. 

u How's that?" he asked, regarding his sig- 
nature with assumed pride. 

" Pretty good," replied Gladys, with an indif- 
ferent air, also assumed. 

Out in the orchard, on her way to the Ben- 
net cottage, Gladys gave vent to her joy — sing- 
ing and dancing, and kissing the paper her father 
had signed. 

" Guess I'll sit down and read it over again. 
Oh, I was so afraid he'd ask me what I wanted 
him to sign his name for. First time I ever 
played a trick on him or my mother. Dear, 
dear, I hope it'll work." 

Gladys unfolded the paper, and read it. 

" The two folks that are going to sign this 
paper don't like to live in a house without a 



MR. BIRNEY SIGNS A PAPER 189 

mother. One of the folks is a man, and the 
other is a little girl. They both want the 
mother to come home. The man loves 
the mother, and the little girl does too. 

" The man gets along the best he can, and 
the little girl gets along the best she can, but 
it's hard not to have a mother. The man 
always looks nice because he is tall and hand- 
some, but the little girl looks like a beggar 
child most all the time, and she pretty near got 
drowned yesterday; and once she almost got 
killed. 

" Maybe nothing will happen to the man and 
the little girl, but they miss the mother so 
much they don't know what to do anyway, and 
they wish that she would come home to the two 
folks who love her most of all. 

" Richard Birney, Gladys Birney." 

The child folded the paper, and placed it in 
an envelope. 

u I do wonder what she'll think when she 
reads it. I hope it'll work ; and won't it sur- 
prise papa if it does, and she comes home ? 
What will they say to me ? " 












CHAPTER XXIII 

AN UNSUSPECTED TALENT 

| OR A was under the trees. The 
four little Bennets, who were play- 
ing near, told her when they saw 
Gladys coming. 

" I was afraid you had forgotten 
me," she said, "and I have wanted to see you so 
much. I have been out here under the trees 
every day watching things." 

" What have you seen ? " asked Gladys, seat- 
ing herself upon the grass. 

" Oh, something every time I have been out 
here. Once I saw some ants trying to carry 
off a little worm." 

" Was the worm dead ? " asked Jimmie. 
" No ; it was a little wiggly worm." 
"What for did the ants want the little wiggly 
worm ? " inquired Sammie. 

" Tell him, Gladys." Nora supposed Gladys 
knew everything. 

190 






AN UNSUSPECTED TALENT 191 

" Oh, I don't know ; did you ask your 
father ?" 

" I don't believe he would know," replied 
Nora. " Once two ants got hold of two ends 
of that worm and pulled two ways." 

" And broke the w r orm," interrupted Tommie. 

" Sure pop ! " put in Jake. 

" No, no," corrected Nora. " After a while 
both the ants let go at the same time, and the 
little worm crawled away hopity-skip." 

" Will the ants ever catch another worm ? " 
asked Jimmie. 

" You can't tell what ants will do, children, 
unless you watch them ; and to-night, if you'll 
be good, quiet children, when bedtime comes, 
I will tell you some other things I have seen 
ants do." 

11 Oh, I know," interrupted Gladys ; " and if 
you'll be awful good children, we'll play have 
a lecture sometime, and I'll get my father to 
tell us things we can't find out ourselves 
about ants. Don't you think that'll be 
nice ? " 

The four little Bennets shook their heads. 

Gladys was surprised. " All right," she 
agreed, " but there'll be a lecture just the same, 






192 WHAT GLADYS SAW 



and they'll pass stick candy around as long as 
the lecture lasts." 

The four little Bennets took courage. 

" We'll come, sure pop," promised Jake. 

"What's that book for?" questioned Johnnie, 
nodding toward the package in Gladys's lap. 

The explanation which followed was most 
satisfactory. 

" I know him," exclaimed Jake, pointing to 
one of the colored pictures in Nora's hand 
11 He's the boberlink." 

" Bobolink ! " corrected Gladys. 

" I had some boberlink eggs in my pocket 
just before school let out," Jake went on, " but 
I smashed 'em, climbing a fence. I was bring- 
ing 'em home to show Nora." 

Gladys was about to call Jake a cruel, bad 
boy, when Nora touched his curly head, saying, 
"Dear old Jake, he'd do anything for poor sister, 
and so would Ted." 

" Well," pouted Jimmie, " I didn't know you 
wanted birds' eggs. I fired all I found at the 
trees. 

Gladys was speechless with horror, when 
Sammie piped in, " All the eggs what I found, 
I gave to the girls ; and I guess I got hun- 



AN UNSUSPECTED TALENT 193 

dreds what were in trees. I'm the only little 
kid in school what dares to climb high, and let 
go and wave your arms." 

"That ain't nuffin\" remonstrated Tommie. 
" You wait till I get bigger ! " 

" Oh, such horrible children ! " thought 
Gladys. 

" Tell Nora about the boberlinks," entreated 
Jake. 

Gladys didn't know how to begin. She 
longed to say some dreadful things to the four 
little Bennets, but wished to spare poor Nora's 
feelings. As she was wondering what to do, 
Tommie, pointing toward the road, called out, 
" There's your pa." 

" Goodie ! " exclaimed Gladys, running to 
meet him. In a few words she explained the 
situation. 

" Please come, papa," she begged, " and tell 
about the bobolinks yourself. I would chew 
up that Jake Bennet if I could be an elephant 
for a minute. Come over and make him feel 
like a sinner. Stealing bobolink eggs ! The 
bad boy ! " 

Mr. Birney could not resist such an appeal. 

" Gladys tells me that you want to hear of a 



194 WHAT GLADYS SAW 

friend of mine who often goes by the name of 
Robert O'Lincoln," he began. 

The four little Bennets were astonished. 
Here was the man who had scarcely spoken to 
them all their lives, making himself perfectly 
at home beneath their trees. Not one of them 
doubted but that the birds and animals actually 
talked to him, and a feeling of awe hushed the 
little group. 

Often and often the children had listened to 
strange stories regarding Mr. Birney. How he 
had spent weeks in the dead of winter in the 
wilderness across the river, watching the wild 
animals there. How he guarded his forest, 
and was always learning something of the 
ways of its inhabitants. He was in the habit 
of roaming days at a time through the cedar 
swamp, always interested in the wild ones and 
never caring for the opinions of his fellow-man. 
The country children, knowing this and a great 
deal more, regarded the man with superstitious 
dread. They believed that he was in league 
with the wild life about him, and could com- 
mand the very insects to do his bidding. It 
was commonly supposed that if he chose to 
use his power, he could tell the " darning- 



AN UNSUSPECTED TALENT 195 

needles " to sew up the mouths of all the 
school children, and it would be done. Only 
Ted Bennet had ever dared roam at will over 
the farm belonging to so strange a man. 

The four little Bennets could scarcely be- 
lieve their eyes when he seated himself upon 
the grass beside them. Their mouths ex- 
pressed their wonder by falling open when 
he spoke. 

kk When I was a boy," went on Mr. Birney, 
" Robert O'Lincoln was one of my best friends. 
I have never known so jolly a soul as he 
appears to be during May and June. He tells 
me that he feels bursting w r ith joy at that time 
of the year, and I believe it. 

" Just before I came over here this afternoon, 
children, I had a little talk with him." 

The four little Bennets opened their mouths 
wider. 

" He was hiding in the bushes. I said to 
him, ' Why, my dear bobolink, what are you 
doing here ? Why don't you get out in the 
sunshine and sing?' The next minute I was 
sorry I spoke as I did, for the poor fellow was 
all in rags. I wish you could have seen his 
coat tail. He explained to me that he was 



196 WHAT GLADYS SAW 

having a new suit made, and that it was his 
custom to keep out of sight until he could 
make a decent appearance. 

" Robert O'Lincoln wouldn't sing for me 
this afternoon — said he couldn't." 

" Didn't you know that bobolinks quit 
singing when they moult ? " demanded Ted, 
who had joined the group unnoticed by any 
one but Nora. " Why, say ! " he continued, 
" bobolinks never sing after their black and 
white feathers come off." 

" How do you know, Ted ? " asked Nora. 

" Well, I guess I know a thing or two about 
birds." 

Ted stopped suddenly, conscious that Gladys 
was looking intently at him. When she gave 
him a reassuring smile, he blushed. 

" How I wish I could hear a bobolink sing ? " 
said Nora. 

A quick light in Ted's eyes caught Mr. 
Birney's attention. 

" Ted," he suggested, " imitate the bobolink's 
song for the children." 

" Who told you I could whistle like the 
birds ? " asked Ted. 

" Perhaps the birds told me," laughed the 
man. 



AN UNSUSPECTED TALENT 197 

Ted stared. " Cross my heart and hope to 
die/' he declared, " I never told a living soul. 
That was my secret." 

The four little - Bennets weren't a bit sur- 
prised that Mr. Birney knew what the birds 
had found out. 

" Can you, Ted ? Can you whistle the bobo- 
link's sono-?" Nora leaned toward him in her 
eagerness. 

" Well, I should say ! " admitted Ted. 

" Please, then, let me hear you." 

Without waiting to be coaxed, Ted rose, 
turned his back on his audience, and with his 
hands in his pockets, whistled the indescribable 
song of the bobolink. 

Mr. Birney was astonished ; the imitation 
was perfect. 

The four little Bennets, to satisfy themselves 
that it was not a bird singing instead of their 
brother, crawled on their hands and knees 
until they were in front of Ted. The admira- 
tion expressed by the attitude the four assumed, 
and the ever open mouths, made him laugh. 

" You look like young robins," he com- 
mented. " Can't you keep your mouths 
shut ? " 



198 WHAT GLADYS SAW 

" Do it again/' begged Tommie ; and Jake, 
Sammie, and Jimmie repeated the request in 
concert. 

Ted's first public performance was a success. 
Nora, Gladys, and Mr. Birney joined the four 
little Bennets in begging him to whistle more. 

" It is wonderful, my boy! " said Mr. Birney. 

So Ted whistled not only the bobolink's 
merry song, but unnumbered wild-wood favor- 
ites until the little Bennets made him laugh 
again. When he finished, Nora was in tears. 

Ted was a homely, freckle-faced, sunburned, 
barefooted boy. He had killed the scarlet 
tanager and nearly drowned Gladys — yet the 
child forgot it all beneath the spell of his 
music. Before he had time to think, or to 
defend himself, she had put her arms around 
his neck and kissed him, — a thing that had 
never happened to him before, or at least not 
since he was a baby, — and he hoped to be pre- 
served from such attacks forever after. The 
boy resented the performance with spirit. 

" Ted," said Gladys, in no way dismayed by 
his frown and the vigor with which he wiped 
the kiss away with his ragged coat sleeve, 
" Ted, from the bottom of my heart, I forgive 
you for all your sins." 



AN UNSUSPECTED TALENT 199 

" Don't you ever dare kiss me again or I'll 
get even with you," he retorted. 

" Boys are queer," laughed Gladys. 

Nora beamed with pride and happiness. 
She knew Ted would whistle for her whenever 
she wanted him to. 

" How did you ever learn to do it, Ted ? " 
asked Mr. Birney. 

" Oh, I've mocked the birds ever since I was 
a little kid," answered the boy. " Did it for 
fun. Are you going to tell Nora more about 
the bobolinks ? " 

" Robert O'Lincoln told me," resumed the 
man, and instantly the four little Bennets 
stopped turning somersaults to listen, " that 
he's had a hard, sad time this year. He began 
the season happily enough. Early in the year, 
dressed in a new 7 suit of black and white, he 
came from the south with a band of minstrels. 
They stopped in Louisiana and gave a series 
of concerts. Nothing like it is ever known 
here in the north. One bobolink begins with 
a thrilling solo, and soon hundreds of birds join 
him in a matchless chorus. 

" Robert O'Lincoln didn't appear surprised 
when I told him that the concerts are famous 



200 WHAT GLADYS SAW 

in the United States, because Mr. Audubon 
not only attended them years ago, but wrote 
a great deal about them, thinking that every- 
body would want to know all that it is possible 
to learn about our greatest American singers. 
One striking thing about the bobolink chorus 
is that the music stops instantly. 
. " Why don't they have concerts up here in 
the north ? " interrupted Gladys. 

" Because when the concert season is over, 
the birds separate into flocks and finally into 
pairs. 

" In Louisiana the concerts are usually fol- 
lowed by feasting upon newly sown rice. 
Thinking of the damage so many birds might 
cause the rice crop, I told my friend Robert 
that he and his band ought to eat something 
else ; but he explained that they had to have 
a change of diet. Then said I, ' Robert, what 
did you eat in the far south?' 'Ate the babies 
of the Sea-Island Cotton Worms,' he answered; 
' and if it wasn't for our folks, the men down 
there wouldn't have any Sea-Island Cotton, 
because those Cotton Worm babies would eat 
it all up. Never saw such greedy things as 
they are. We just have to help ourselves to 



AN UNSUSPECTED TALENT 201 

a little rice to get the taste of them out of our 
mouths.' 

" ' Excuse me, sir,' said I, ' who could blame 
you ? ' 

" Robert O'Lincoln then went on to tell me 
of his troubles. It seems that he and two 
others of the concert company wanted the 
same mate. She was a dear little lady, dressed 
in striped brown. Her shawl and her little 
bonnet were trimmed with darker stripes. 
Robert O'Lincoln said that she was the sweet- 
est creature in the meadow, and he felt that he 
must have her. The other two birds felt the 
same, and she said she really couldn't tell which 
she admired the most. They all looked alike 
to her — she didn't think she cared for any of 
them. This queer little lady finally promised 
to love the bird who could sing the best. She 
was fond of music. 

" Robert O'Lincoln told me that he sung 
incessantly for the sake of winning that little 
bunch of feathers. He poured forth his melody 
from the swaying stalks of plants, from the top 
of the fence, and from the low bushes. He 
soared upward, singing as he went — then 
dropped to the ground to sing beside her." 



202 WHAT GLADYS SAW 

"She married him, of course," insisted Gladys. 

" Yes, they were married," laughed her father. 
" One May-day there was a wedding among the 
violets and blue-eyed grass in the meadow. 
Robert O'Lincoln promised to care for and 
protect his little wife with his life if necessary, 
and she promised to take care of their home 
and the children as well as she knew how. 

" If only the two birds had built their home 
in that particular meadow, among the butter- 
cups and clover, they might have been spared 
their heart-breaking trouble. They chose in- 
stead to make their nest in a timothy field not 
far away. They found a little hollow in the 
ground, which Mrs. O'Lincoln lined with woven 
grasses, and whenever she left the nest or re- 
turned to it, she went by a roundabout way. 
Nothing would have tempted her to have flown 
directly up from the nest." 

" Why not ? " asked Sammie. 

" Because her enemies would have known 
where she lived, and she wanted to keep her nest 
hidden from them." 

" What enemies did she have ? " asked 
Jimmie. 

" Oh, crows and hawks," replied the man. 



AN UNSUSPECTED TALENT 203 

" And boys who maybe didn't know how she 
loved her home," added Nora. 

11 I have heard," admitted Mr. Birney, " that 
there are boys in some parts of the world who 
would be cruel enough to spoil a nest that they 
couldn't make themselves if they tried ever so 
hard. Mrs. O'Lincoln was proud of her nest. 
She had finished it the best she knew how. 
Robert O'Lincoln was happy as could be ; used 
to hover above that little home of his, singing 
thrilling songs of joy. 

" There came a time when there were six 
precious eggs in the nest. Beautiful little eggs 
they were, pointed on one end — " 

11 Oh, yes," broke in Sammie, " Jake knows all 
about em, he — " 

" Shut up ! will you ? " roared Jake, knocking 
Sammie on his back in the grass. 

Mr. Birney paid no attention to the skirmish. 

" It was an anxious time for the little mother 
and for the father as well. Inside those six 
eggs, bobolink babies were waiting to break 
their shells. Think of it, children, six more 
wondrous singers tucked away in those tiny 
eggs. The mother bird kept them cuddled 
safe and warm beneath her wings, and no one 



204 WHAT GLADYS SAW 

will ever know how she loved them, nor how 
happy her little heart was when she heard the 
baby bobolinks faintly peeping to her. The 
father bobolink used to bring her food so she 
wouldn't have to leave the nest. 

tk One day something dreadful happened! " 

" Who told you ? " demanded Jake. 

" The bobolink," said Mr. Birney, ignoring 
the child's agitation. " To tell you the truth, I 
was in the hay-field soon after the accident and 
saw the poor birds' ruined home." 

Jake collapsed. 

"He's sorry," remonstrated Nora. "Jake 
didn't realize — " 

" It was a sad thing," interrupted Gladys's 
father, " I don't wonder the boy feels sorry 
about it ; but the men who were cutting the 
grass destroyed the nest, eggs and all." 

"Why?" demanded Sammie. 

u Thev didn't mean to — thev didn't realize 
what the old birds were making such a fuss 
about. The nest was so carefully hidden I 
doubt if they could have found it anyway in 
time to save it." 

" Lucky for you, Jake," began Jimmie, but 
Nora shook her head. 



AN UNSUSPECTED TALENT 205 

" Did the bobolinks build another home ? " 
asked Gladys. 

14 No, child," answered her father ; " bobolinks 
raise only one brood each season." 

11 It seems to me," said Nora, looking beyond 
the boys, "that stealing bird babies — birds' 
eggs — is just as bad as killing the birds them- 
selves. Whoever wants me to be happy, must 
promise not to touch them." 

The four little Bennets looked most uncom- 
fortable, but offered no remarks upon the sub- 
ject, until Ted swiftly placed them upon their 
feet facing Nora. 

" Now, you little sinners, say what Nora 
wants you to, or I'll meet you one at a time 
when you go after the cows." 

The boys were about to rebel when Gladys 
stood beside them. " Nora," she said, " I'll 
promise you that I'll never touch an egg nor 
even scare the mother bird nor the father bird." 

" Me too," chimed in Jake, and " Me too," 
echoed Sammie, Jimmie, and Tommie. 

" Tell the children about the bobolink's new 
suit, papa." Gladys had to say something or 
laugh — and she didn't want to laugh if she 
could help it. 



206 WHAT GLADYS SAW 

" Robert O'Lincoln's new suit is to be like 
Mrs. O'Lincoln's in color, and when it is fin- 
ished, he is going south. He will travel by 
night and expects to join a great many old 
friends in the marshes along the Delaware 
River. There they will be known as Reed 
Birds. In South Carolina, their next stopping- 
place, where the whole band will feast on rice, 
they will be called Rice Birds." 

The four little Bennets were growing rest- 
less. 

" If I see Robert O'Lincoln again before he 
leaves, I will tell him you children are sorry 
he had so sad an experience this year, and 
you hope he will be more successful with his 
family another season. 

" Boys, if Nora wants to watch the birds, 
there is no reason why you can't take her into 
the fields next summer before their nesting 
season is over — of course you'll have to find 
the nests for her, but you won't mind doing 
that to please your sister." 

" We'll put up some bird houses here in the 
yard, too," said Ted ; " we'll make 'em this 
winter, boys, — for wrens and bluebirds, — so 
Nora'll have something to watch all the 



AN UNSUSPECTED TALENT 207 

time. Ain't it queer we never thought of it 
before ? " 

The minute Gladys was alone with her 
father, she indulged in a stage whisper. " That 
Jake did feel like a little sinner, sure as any- 
thing." 

When the Bennet children were left by 
themselves, Ted whistled bird songs. Gladys 
and her father listened until they were beyond 
reach of the sweet, clear music. 

" That boy has a wonderful talent, Gladys," 
said the man ; " I have never known or heard 
of any one who could equal his ability in 
imitating bird calls, and you know I have 
travelled the world over." 



CHAPTER XXIV 




. 



GIFTS AND THEIR OBLIGATIONS 

R. BIRNEY was puzzled. Why 
his wife should suddenly write 
letters addressed to " Dearest Papa 
and Gladys " — letters brimming 
over with tenderness — was more 
than he could understand. Meditating upon 
the subject didn't make him cross. 

Soon after, an express package found its way 
to the old farm-house. In it were dresses, 
aprons, and other belongings for Gladys. To 
the child's unspeakable delight, there were 
gifts for Nora, — an albatross dress of cherry 
red, a pretty coat, and a matchless hat. 

The last thing Gladys noticed in the package 
was a box. Removing the cover, she found a 
note. 

" You read it, papa, while I see what's in the 
box." 

" ' Dear little daughter,'" he read, " ' why don't 

208 






GIFTS AND THEIR OBLIGATIONS 209 

you organize a Band of Mercy for the sake 
of the little Bennets ? ' That was all. 

Gladys stared at her father. " Why, I don't 
know enough to get up a Band of Mercy ; and 
just think, there would be only seven children 
in it, counting me ! That would be a funny 
Band of Mercy, enough to make anybody laugh ! 

" Why, papa, what is this ? Help me open 
it, please. It says, ' Gladys from grandpa.' 
Opera glasses! Well, what will I do with opera 
glasses out here in the country? Wait, there 
is writing on the other side of the slip of paper. 
It says, ' This gift is sent to the little girl, 
with the wish that it may help her to study the 
actors on the stage of her theatre.' The ' stage 
of my theatre ' and ' actors ' — what is grandpa 
thinking about? Oh, I understand — the birds, 
of course ! Wasn't he good ? 

" What else is in the box ? Microscopes ! 
They are all marked. One for Nora and 
Ted, — yes, sir, — and Jake. All six of those 
Bennet children will own a microscope." 

" What are these, Gladys ? " asked her father, 
removing from tissue-paper wrappings seven 
large blue buttons, each decorated with a white 
star. 



210 WHAT GLADYS SAW 

" Band of Mercy buttons, papa ; and see, 
mamma has sent me a pile of Band of Mercy 
reading. Well, I guess I'll have to get up one, 
if she wants me to so badly." 

" Do explain the meaning of all this, Gladys," 
said her father. " I never heard of such an 
organization. What is its object ? " 

" To be kind to everything," answered the 
child. 

" That is not very definite." 

" Well, this is the pledge you have to sign if 
you want to belong : ' I will try to be kind to 
all living creatures, and try to protect them 
from cruel usage.' Children love to go to Band 
of Mercy meetings. We used to sing songs 
and speak pieces about birds and animals, and 
everybody told what they knew about being 
kind to stray cats and not letting folks be cruel 
to horses. I can't half explain to you about it. 
You read some of these leaflets, and then you'll 
know. 

" I can teach the Bennet children to sing 
Band of Mercy songs. I'll sing one of my 
favorites to you, papa : — 

" * Hail to the elm, the brave old elm ! 
Our last lone forest tree, 



GIFTS AND THEIR OBLIGATIONS 211 

Whose limbs outstand the lightning's brand, 
For a brave old elm is he ! 

" ' For fifteen score of full-told years 
He has borne his leafy prime, 
Yet he holds them well, and lives to tell 
His tale of the olden time. 

" ' Then hail to the elm, to the green-topped elm, 
And long may his branches wave, 
For a relic is he, the gnarled old tree, 
Of the time of the good and brave.' " 

" Your father likes that, Gladys ; sing an- 
other." 

ki How would you like ' Each Little Flower 
that Opens ' ? " 

" Sing it, child." 

" ' Each little flower that opens, 

Each little bird that sings, 
God made their glowing colors, 

He made their tiny wings. 
The purple-banded mountain, 

The river running by, 
The sunset and the morning red 

That brightens up the sky, 

" ' The cold wind in the winter, 
The pleasant summer sun, 
The ripe fruits in the garden, 
He made them every one ; 



212 WHAT GLADYS SAW 

The tall trees in the forest, 
The meadows where we play, 

The rushes by the river-side 
We gather every day, — 

" ' Yes, all things bright and beautiful, 
All creatures great and small, 
And all things wise and w r onderful, 
The Lord God made them all.' " 

" Sing one more for your father." 
" All right, I love these songs. Guess 
sing you the * Honest Old Toad ' this time. 

" ' Oh, a queer little chap is the honest old toad, 
A funny old fellow is he ; 

Living under the stone by the side of the road, 
'Neath the shade of the old willow tree. 
He is dressed all in brown from his toe to his crown, 
Save his vest that is silvery white. 
He takes a long nap in the heat of the day, 
And walks in the cool dewy night. 

" ' When winter draws near, Mr. Toad goes to bed, 
And sleeps just as sound as a top ; 
But when May blossoms follow soft April showers, 
He comes out with a skip, jump, and hop. 
He changes his dress only once, I confess, 
Every spring ; and his old worn-out coat, 
With trousers and waistcoat, he rolls in a ball, 
And stuffs the whole thing down his throat. 












GIFTS AND THEIR OBLIGATIONS 213 

ii < « K-rruk, krruk," says the frog, 
From his home in the bog ; 
But the toad he says never a word ; 

He tries to be good, 
Like the children who should 
Be seen but never be heard.' " 

11 Go over, Gladys, and begin the good work. 
I see that mamma has put in some pledge cards 
for you to have the children sign. If you can 
teach those little Bennets to sing Band of Mercy 
songs, you will have accomplished something 
worth while." 

Gladys shook her head. " It will be a queer 
kind of a Band of Mercy," she objected, " but 
I will do the best I can." 



CHAPTER XXV 



GLADYS REPORTS TO HER MOTHER 




|Y DEAREST MOTHER: Such 
a time as we have had since 
I wrote to you and grandpa to 
thank you for the presents. I 
did get up the Band of Mercy, 
and you can't guess how easily the little Ben- 
nets learn the songs. I feel like laughing at 
Sammie every time he sings the 4 Honest Old 
Toad.' He puffs all up and looks like a toad 
himself — he gets so dreadfully in earnest. 
The children want to have Band of Mercy 
meetings every day, and we did just at first ; but 
papa says that is a bad plan, because they might 
get tired of it and never want to have any more 
meetings, so we have them only twice a week 
now. 

11 The other day Aunt Rebecca asked Tommie 
what he wore the blue button for. He said it 
was because he belonged to the Band of Mercy. 

214 



GLADYS REPORTS TO HER MOTHER 215 

Then she asked him what that meant, and he 
told her it meant that he was going to be kind 
to elephants. Now, what do you think of that ? 
I had to stuff my handkerchief in my mouth to 
keep from laughing. Aunt Rebecca winked at 
me, and said she was glad to hear it. 

" Our meetings are not a bit like the ones I 
used to go to, and I do not believe they do any 
good ; only we have some fun, and Mrs. Bennet 
says it makes her happy to have the children 
learn to sing pretty songs. She talks more than 
she used to. I guess, after all, the Band of 
Mercy does do some good, for Mrs. Bennet says 
the children do not quarrel as often as they did, 
and Aunt Rebecca says they certainly behave 
better. They did use to chase her hens and 
chickens, but now they don't. 

u Out here in the country, mamma, the cats 
and dogs and horses and cows are taken good 
care of, and I wondered what the children could 
tell in the meeting about trying to do acts of 
kindness to dumb creatures. I thought they 
wouldn't have anything to say, but they did at 
the very first meeting. Tommie said that he 
saw a ' catakiller ' and didn't step on it. Jimmie 
owned up that he used to spoil all the ant hills 



216 WHAT GLADYS SAW 

he could find — but he won't any more. Sammie 

told about daddy-long-legs — how he caught one 

and said when he went after the cows one 

night : — 

" ' Gran'-daddy, gran'-daddy-long-legs, 

Tell me where my cows are, or I'll kill you/ 

Sammie explained that if you lift a daddy- 
long-legs by one leg, it will point where the 
cows are with another; but if it won't point, 
then you always kill it. Sammie was just going 
to kill the daddy-long-legs when he remembered 
that he belonged to the Band of Mercy and 
maybe the daddy-long-legs wanted to live, so 
he let him go. 

" Jake looked kind of ashamed, but he con- 
fessed that he always thought it was lots of fun 
to turn mud-turtles on their backs ; so one 
morning, when he found a big, ugly one, he 
poked him on his back and was going to leave 
him there, when he happened to think what 
Sammie remembered, that he belonged to the 
Band of Mercy, too, so he poked the mud-turtle 
over on his feet again. 

" I was the only one who had not been kind 
to something. Even Nora helped a fly get 
away from a spider. 






GLADYS REPORTS TO HER MOTHER 217 

" Ted Bennet is the queerest boy I ever heard 
of. He won't belong to the Band of Mercy and 
he won't sign the pledge, but he comes to all 
the meetings. When Nora told about the spider 
and the fly, he said he would like to know why 
we ought to be kind to all creatures and not 
kill them when they are killing each other all 
the time. He says he knows what he is talking 
about, because he has been outdoors all his life 
more than he has ever been in the house, and 
he has watched everything that lives on the 
farm. I didn't know what to say, but I told him 
that I guessed if the wild things have such a 
hard time to get along anyway, we ought to be 
willing to help them all we can, and not make 
them have more trouble and suffering. He 
stuck his nose up dreadfully and said that was 
what any girl would say, but it wasn't any rea- 
son. Then I happened to think that wild 
things may kill each other, but it is because 
they are after food, and not because they mean 
to be cruel. But when you don't understand 
things yourself, mamma, you can't explain them 
to any one else ; so I gave up and asked Ted 
to whistle bird songs for us. He is teaching 
us the different bird calls, so we will know what 



218 WHAT GLADYS SAW 

bird is singing even if we can't see it. Every 
time I see Ted Bennet now, I think of that 
dear old ' Barefoot Boy.' Ted is getting better 
looking, too, mamma, — the freckles don't show 
half as much as they did ; but he doesn't like 
girls very well, only Nora. 

" You wanted me to tell you all about the 
Band of Mercy; but, you see, there isn't very 
much to tell, so I hope you'll excuse me if you 
are disappointed. 

" The best thing that has happened this sum- 
mer was Mary Ellen's birthday party. She 
had one in the orchard, and nobody was in- 
vited only all the Bennet children, Rose, too, 
and my father and I. Mary Ellen is the most 
beautiful young lady I ever saw anywhere. 
Her sister Jane waited on the table, and we 
had ice cream and everything good. Papa 
told funny stories, and made everybody laugh 
— even Uncle Reuben stayed awake and 
laughed. Jane says Mary Ellen isn't a young 
lady at all, only a big little girl. 

" Nora wore her new dress, and honestly, 
mamma, she looked pretty. Mary Ellen curled 
my hair for me the way it ought to be curled, 
and honestly, I was thankful. 






GLADYS REPORTS TO HER MOTHER 219 

" There was a birthday cake with I don't 
know how many candles on it. I didn't 
have a chance to count, we had such a happy 
time. 

" After supper we played games in the or- 
chard for a while ; then we children sung and 
I spoke a piece, and last of all Ted got over 
being bashful and whistled bird music. When 
that boy stops saying ' ain't,' I think he will be 
most perfect. He was dressed up at Mary 
Ellen's party, and he did look remarkably 
nice. He said he didn't feel comfortable, 
though. 

" Jane asked her father if he wouldn't hitch 
up the lumber-wagon next Sunday, and take 
the whole crowd to Sunday-school. Uncle 
Reuben said he would be glad to, if the chil- 
dren would go, but they used to say they 
wouldn't. Isn't it queer how children change 
their minds ? They all want to go now, and I 
am going with them. What do you suppose 
the superintendent will think ? 

" I can't write any more now, because my 
fingers are pretty nearly broken. When my 
father allows folks to get acquainted with him, 
they think just what I do — that he is a fine 



220 WHAT GLADYS SAW 

gentleman. If you were here, mamma, the 
world would be perfect. Good-by, from 
" Your loving daughter, 

" Gladys Birney. 

" P.S. I wrote to the boys last week. 

11 G. B. 

" Another P.S. : The Band of Mercy story 
the children like the best is the one about the 
bell of justice. I have to tell it over again at 
every meeting. It is about the tower in Italy 
in which the king had caused a bell to be hung 
so any one who had been wronged could ring it 
to summon the magistrate, whose duty it was 
to see that justice was done. Do you remem- 
ber the story, mamma, how the rope got worn 
out, and a wild vine was tied on to make it 
longer? And a poor old starving horse, that 
had been turned out to die, tried to eat the 
vine. That made the bell ring. When the 
magistrate came and saw the old horse, he 
made the owner take care of it as long as it 
lived. 

" I like the story, myself. — G. Birney. 

" P.S. If I could see you, I could tell you 
more things than I can write." 




CHAPTER XXVI 

THE STORY OF THE SILVER FOX 

NE evening when it rained, Mr. 
Birney told Gladys a story. 

" Tell me about something that 
happened in the woods near 
grandpa's city." 
" Let me think," said her father. " Now I 
have it. I can tell you something that hap- 
pened not long ago." 
" What is it about ? " 
" A silver fox, Gladys." 
" It it true ? " 

" As true as I am able to tell it. I read the 
principal facts in a newspaper." 

" All right, I am listening. First, though, 
are there any foxes on our farm ? " 

" Indeed, there are, Gladys. The folks in the 
poultry yard know it better than I do." 
" Where clo they live, papa ? " 
" In the old woods, where no one will harm 

221 



222 WHAT GLADYS SAW 

them nor their neighbors. Are you ready for 
the story, or shall we talk about our own foxes 
instead ? " 

" I guess I had rather have the story this 
time," decided Gladys, resting her head on her 
fathers shoulder in the most comfortable 
fashion. 

" The shadows of the trees grew longer and 
longer as they fell upon the bit of open ground 
in the forest where five baby foxes were play- 
ing. It was a special treat to be taken to this 
playground, and the little ones scampered 
about in high glee. There was nothing near to 
harm them, for the proud mother fox was care- 
ful of her babies and never let them leave the 
safety of their cosey home when danger was near. 

" It was no wonder she was proud of her 
family, for they were cunning little foxes, with 
sharp, bright eyes brimful of mischief. They 
were so fat and round that their mother some- 
times laughed until her sides fairly ached 
when she watched them play leap-frog. Their 
bushy, white-tipped tails were her special pride ; 
and she loved to bury her nose in their soft, 
silken fur when they lay cuddled together in 
the burrow. 



tTHE STORY OF THE SILVER FOX 223 
" These were silver foxes, and the only ones 
dthin many, many miles of their home. Long- 
go the silver foxes were quite numerous ; 
but their beautiful fur made lovely muffs and 
trimmings, so the hunters and trappers gave 
them no rest, but shot them and caught them 
until they have almost disappeared. 

11 The little foxes not only had no cousins, 
uncles, nor aunts, but their handsome father 
went away one evening and never came home. 
Their mother guessed his fate; she knew there 
were plenty of people in the world who coveted 
his rich coat, and well understood that she 
and the little ones would never hear his cheer- 
ful bark again. 

" With five hungry young children to pro- 
vide for, the mother fox had no time to mourn 
the loss of their father. 

" When the babies had played as long as she 
thought they ought, each little fox obediently 
answered her call, and soon five little forms 
were snuggled together in the bed their father 
and mother had made of old leaves and grass, 
the autumn before they were born. 

" The mother fox waited until they were 
asleep, and then started forth in search of food. 



224 WHAT GLADYS SAW 

It was nearly dark in the forest by this time, 
and as she hurried along in the deepening 
gloom, her mind was full of serious thoughts 
of the future. 

" To continue living where they were was out 
of the question ; for one thing, it was almost 
impossible to get a bite for her little ones to eat 
without risking her life. Many a time she had 
been chased by a dog, when, perhaps, she had 
secured nothing but one small chicken for her 
big family. 

"It was seldom she found a rabbit; the 
hunters were after them, too. It was hard to 
catch birds, and her children, one and all, dis- 
liked toads. There was nothing left for her to 
do, then, but watch for lambs in the fields and 
rob hen-coops. 

" It was dangerous work, but the precious 
little ones at home must be fed. She couldn't 
let them starve. 

" One thing, however, she decided to do ; 
just as soon as the babies were a little bigger 
and stronger, she would take them with her up 
north where, perhaps, there would be enough 
to eat, and as she fondly imagined, they would 
be safe from the cruel hunters. 



THE STORY OF THE SILVER FOX 225 

" She reached a farm-yard at last, and to her 
great surprise and delight, captured a plump 
old gander with scarcely any trouble at all. Al- 
though hungry herself, after her long journey, 
the poor fox resolutely turned her back on the 
tempting bunches of feathers perched on the 
roosts in the hen-house, and thankful to have 
secured enough for her little ones, she took the 
heavy gander in her mouth and started home- 
ward. 

" With no thought of impending danger she 
sped along, her heart gladdened by her unex- 
pected good fortune. Alas ! when about half 
way home, the poor fox was caught in a trap 
which held her tight in its merciless grasp. 

" The trap was an ingeniously arranged affair, 
and although she was quite unhurt, her cries 
were piteous in the extreme ; struggle frantically 
as she might, escape was quite impossible. Five 
hungry babies at home, who would miss their 
mother and starve to death if she never came 
back to them ! She tried again to free herself. 
All her strength and agility availed her nothing. 

11 Five hungry babies with no one to care for 
them ! Again and again she tried to tear her- 
self away. It was useless. 



226 



WHAT GLADYS SAW 



" The hours crept slowly but steadily on. 
When the morning light flooded the waking 
world, it brought added anguish to the suffering 
captive; for then the hunters found their prize. 

" Two great men were wild with delight when 
the beautiful creature met their gaze. It was 
in vain she lifted her tired, mournful eyes to 
them in mute appeal. They called her a 
wretched thief, when they saw the gander she 
had taken to feed her hungry children, and at 
the same time were loud in their praises of the 
long, silvery black fur God had given her, and 
they were taking. 

" Instead of killing the unfortunate fox, they 
bound a long rope about her shapely limbs and 
body, while the proud head, held so gracefully 
but the day before, drooped upon her silken 
breast. 

" When she learned the fate for which she 
was destined, her anxiety was all for the hungry 
little ones ; for herself, she had no thought. 
She listened intently to the conversation of the 
trappers, for with the sagacity common to her 
kind, she meant to escape even then, if possible. 

" A famous riding club in the near-by city 
intended giving a fox-chase that very day. 



THE STORY OF THE SILVER FOX 227 

Fifty hounds were in readiness for the chase, 
but the fox the sportsmen had secured was ill ; 
this, then, the hunters agreed was their chance 
to make some money ; they would sell their 
prisoner to the club. 

" This matter was arranged easily, and not a 
member of the club knew that the fox to be 
sold was a beautiful silver fox worth many 
times what they agreed to pay the trappers 
at the close of the chase. 

11 Poor mother fox! Sometimes she moaned 
and cried in a heart-rending fashion ; at other 
times she snarled and barked, showing her 
sharp, white teeth in a savage manner. But 
all that long day, until the hour appointed for 
the chase, her heart ached for the hungry 
babies. 

" When the fatal hour came an unlooked-for 
occurrence took place. Four officers of the 
Humane Society put in their appearance, and 
declared that chasing a live fox is nothing less 
than extreme cruelty, and that they would 
never allow such a thing to take place if they 
had power to prevent it. 

" A heated argument followed, with the re- 
sult that the long-talked-of chase was a disap- 



228 WHAT GLADYS SAW 

pointment to the members of the riding club, 
and ended in a 4 drag,' which means that a dead 
fox was dragged over the moorland at the tail 
of a horse ; the club, in the meantime, refusing 
to pay the trappers for the fox they no longer 
needed. 

"Then it was that the officers of the Humane 
Society together visited the beautiful silver fox, 
and at last her appeals were heeded. Strangely 
enough, the trappers who captured the fox 
knew so little of the value of her fur that they 
readily agreed to sell her to the four men for 
the price promised them by the riding club, and 
the only condition imposed upon them was 
that the handsome creature should be taken 
back to the forest and set at liberty, on the 
very spot where she was captured. 

" That night there was a happy reunion in 
the home of the silver fox, who now lives with 
many sturdy grandchildren about her, in the 
region of Hudson Bay." 







CHAPTER XXVII 

CRICKETS AND POND FOLKS 

? APA, wouldn't it be fun if this 
house was Noah's Ark ? " 

Gladys could keep still no 

longer. For an hour her father 

had been reading, and she had 

cut pictures from old magazines for Nora's 

scrap-book. 

" Do you know what I think of when I look 
out of doors to-day ? " continued the child, in 
nowise discouraged by her father's silence. " I 
think of w^hat the Bible says about the flood. 
' The same day were all the fountains of the 
great deep broken up, and the windows of 
heaven were opened.' I learned that one rainy 
Sunday long ago." 

Mr. Birney smiled and closed his book. " It 
does rain, Gladys, that's a fact." 

11 Why, papa, it pours, I can hardly hear the 
little cricket singing. Aren't you glad we have 

229 



230 WHAT GLADYS SAW 

that little ' cricket on the hearth' ? You know 
it's good luck to have a cricket in the house. 
Listen, do you hear him now ? " 

" Yes, Gladys, do you know where he lives? " 

" Of course I do, but I had to hunt before I 
found his little house. Here, papa, right here 
in this little crack by the fireplace. There, he 
stopped singing, but pretty soon he'll poke 
his little head out again. He sits with his 
head in his doorway most all day. 

" Oh, papa, what do you think Ted Bennet 
told me ? " 

" I am sure I don't know, little daughter." 

" Well, yesterday morning we went to the 
pond after cat-tails for Nora, and there I saw in 
the soft, damp earth some little ridges that 
looked just like the piles of earth the moles 
have thrown up, down by our currant bushes, 
only of course, they were much smaller — oh, 
just tiny little ridges. And who do you think 
Ted Bennet says made them ? " 

" Gladys, I can't guess." 

" He says they were made by mole-crickets. 
I said, ' Who told you, Ted? ' He said he didn't 
have to be told things, he discovered things for 
himself; but I said to him, ' Ted Bennet, look 



CRICKETS AND POND FOLKS 231 

a-here, you can't discover the right names for 
things all by yourself, because pretty near 
everything in the world has been named.' " 

Mr. Birney laughed. " What happened next, 
Gladys ? " he inquired. 

" Well, Ted said he'd show me that he was 
right, so we got down in the mud and he dug 
out the queerest, dirtiest-looking bug you ever 
saw. 'There,' he said, 'Gladys Birney, if 
that ain't' — I can't get him to stop saying 
1 ain't,' papa — ' if that ain't a mole-cricket, 
what kind of a cricket is it ? ' Before I had a 
chance to say a word, he explained to me that 
that little bug lives alone in its hole and never 
comes out except at night. 

" Then I got a chance to say I didn't believe 
it w r as a cricket at all, because it wouldn't jump. 
Ted said he knew it was a cricket, because he 
had been studying some with the microscope 
mamma sent him, and its song is made in 
regular cricket fashion by rubbing its wings 
together. He made me look at the wings 
through the microscope, and, papa, the veins in 
them were rough-looking, raised veins. 

" Now, papa, what is that creature's true 
name ? " 



232 WHAT GLADYS SAW 

" Ted is right, Gladys, it is the mole-cricket." 

" I suppose he'll think he's wonderfully 
smart now," laughed Gladys ; " but he'll make 
a mistake some day. The idea of a boy trying 
to name things himself ! " 

" It is better to be often mistaken, Gladys, 
than to depend on books alone. That boy sur- 
prises me greatly. We have called him a bad 
boy always because we knew no better." 

"It was his fault, papa, just the same; he 
didn't try to let anybody understand him. He 
didn't care much what anybody thought — he 
says he didn't, and I think he was a regular 
mole-cricket himself; he got into his burrow 
and stayed there. Nobody would have known 
there was anything remarkable about him if 
somebody hadn't dug him out — so there!" 

Gladys laughed merrily. It didn't occur to 
her mind that her own father had been far 
more misunderstood than Ted Bennet. 

" The mole-crickets are a determined race, 
Gladys," commented her father; u and when 
they begin their galleries, they allow no obsta- 
cles to stop them — digging their way through 
roots and destroying everything they encoun- 
ter." 



CRICKETS AND POND FOLKS 233 

" Suppose they should meet a worm, papa, 
what would they do then ? " 

" Eat him up to get him out of the way, 
Gladys. Woe be to the worm or insect that 
interferes with the work of a mole-cricket." 

"Do the mole-crickets live on worms, papa?" 

" No, they prefer vegetation." 

" Where does the mother cricket lay her 
eggs ? " persisted Gladys ; " and how many eggs 
does she lay ? " 

" Only about three or four hundred, Gladys, 
and they are laid in the remotest part of the 
gallery, in the spring of the year." 

" Three or four hundred ! " echoed Gladys. " I 
don't wonder there wouldn't be anything green 
left on the earth if it wasn't for the birds ! 

" Ted lifted up a stone, papa, and showed me 
some of those horrid little soft-bodied insects 
without any wings, and he told me they were 
stone-crickets. Was he right ? " 

" Yes, Gladys, he undoubtedly knew what he 
was talking about." 

" He couldn't tell me a thing about the 
jumping-crickets in the fields, papa. Are they 
called field-crickets, I wonder, because they 
live in fields ? " 



234 WHAT GLADYS SAW 

" Certainly, child, they are peaceful ground- 
dwellers, too. Never have any quarrels among 
themselves or with their neighbors. Each 
cricket lives alone in his own little burrow, 
and never ventures far from home." 

"Why not?" 

" Perhaps because they fear the birds." 

" There must be a good many different kinds 
of crickets on our farm ; Ted told me that Rose 
read something about snowy tree-crickets to 
him and Nora, — something she found in one 
of the magazines I took over there, — and he 
has been trying to find some ever since. 

" What becomes of the crickets in the win- 
ter, papa ? " 

" Most of them die, my child." 

" Then I shouldn't think there would be any 
crickets the next summer." 

" Most crickets lay their eggs in the autumn, 
Gladys, and the eggs hatch out on the first 
warm days of spring. We would be overrun 
with insect life if it were not for the work of 
winter birds who feed on eggs." 

" Being overrun with insects, reminds me 
of the electric-light bugs," interrupted Gladys. 
" Ted Bennet says he never heard of them, but 



CRICKETS AND POND FOLKS 235 

I've seen hundreds of them under the electric 
lights — great brown bugs with ugly-looking 
front legs and tough wrings. Nobody I asked 
about them, when we found them beneath 
the electric lights, could tell me one thing. 
What are they, papa, and where do they come 
from ? " 

" These great insects are giant water-bugs," 
replied her father, u and when they dash them- 
selves against the electric lights, they are on 
their way from one pond to another. The 
eggs of the giant water-bugs are attached to 
the stems of water plants, and when the young 
are hatched, they go to the bottom of the pond 
where they hide among the stones to watch for 
mud-minnows and frogs. They grasp their 
prey with their front legs, and suck its blood." 

11 They look as if they might," remarked 
Gladys, with a shiver. " Can they swim, as 
the water-striders do, papa ? " 

" Surely they do. It seems to me you must 
have seen the giant water-bugs skimming over 
the pond, Gladys. Their bodies, you remem- 
ber, are flat, and shaped like a boat. Their 
hind legs they use as oars. These insects 
have no wings until they are full grown." 



236 WHAT GLADYS SAW 

" If they live in our pond, papa, why don't 
we ever see them flying ? " 

" Because they fly by night." 

" There is a great deal to learn about what 
lives in ponds, isn't there, papa ? " 

" Indeed there is," assented Mr. Birney. 
" Did you ever hear of the Back Swimmers, 
Gladys ? " 

" No ; never." 

"Did you ever hear of the Water Boatmen?" 

" No." 

" Do you know anything about the River 
Zaitha?" 

" Not a word ; now please tell me about all 
of them." 

" Not until you have seen them first. They 
are all living in our pond, and you must go 
down and introduce yourself to them before I 
will tell you anything about their lives, only," 
cautioned her father, " be sure you don't go 
without Ted, because if you go alone, you may 
fall in." 




CHAPTER XXVIII 

HOLES IN THE GROUND 

ANYBODY who wants to see 
things ought to get right down 
on the ground and watch." 
Gladys made this remark to her 
father without looking up. 
" What are you watching this time, Gladys, 
— ants ? " 

" No, sir, — holes in the ground. I have 
seen things all the forenoon. Over there in 
that sandy place I noticed a wasp walking 
around, and acting kind of queer, so I got 
down to see what w r as going on." 

" What color was the wasp, Gladys ? " 
" Black — it was a little black one." 
" Then it was a sand-wasp." 
" She seemed to be looking for something," 
continued the child, " and I guess she didn't 
know for a few minutes where to find her own 
front door. I discovered that her home was 

237 



238 WHAT GLADYS SAW 

down in the ground — in a regular cave she 
must have made herself, because after a while 
she found the place she was looking for, and 
with her feet — no, I mean her hands — she 
brushed away a pile of dirt, and then I saw 
a hole in the ground. I wish all the Bennet 
children could have seen what I saw next. 
That wasp went a little way off and found a 
dead grasshopper that she dragged to her hole 
— I mean her house. Then she went into her 
house backward, and pulled the dead grass- 
hopper in head first. 

11 Now, papa, I am telling the honest truth, 
and this isn't a bit of a fairy tale. That wasp 
came out, turned her back to her front door, 
and kicked sand over it so nobody could see 
the opening — you wouldn't know there was a 
hole there at all. I stayed right there and 
watched. I guess there were some wasp babies 
in the house, and the mother was afraid they 
would run away and get lost, or be eaten up by 
birds, for in a little while she came back with 
another dead grasshopper, which she dragged 
into her house the same way. Every time she 
left home, she covered the opening just as care- 
fully as she did the first time. I watched her 



HOLES IX THE GROUND 239 

take four grasshoppers to those wasp children, 
then I got tired of waiting for her to come back 
again. Maybe she couldn't find any more dead 
grasshoppers, and maybe she was afraid the 
children would kill themselves eating. It is 
pretty hard to tell what a wasp is thinking 
about. How many children do you suppose 
there were down in that hole in the ground, 
papa ? " 

14 None at all, Gladys." 

" Why, papa Birney — why did she take the 
dead grasshoppers home if they weren't for her 
children to eat ? " 

" The grasshoppers weren't dead, Gladys." 

" They were the deadest-looking grasshop- 
pers I ever saw," declared the child. "They 
were lying on their backs, facing the sky. 
Their arms were folded this way, and they 
looked peaceful as anything. You wouldn't 
believe they ever expected to hop again." 

" Neither will they," laughed the man. 

" Well, if those grasshoppers weren't dead, 
papa, what ailed them? Did the rain pretty 
near drown them ? " 

" They were paralyzed, my child. The sand- 
wasp knows just where to sting the grasshop- 



240 WHAT GLADYS SAW 

pers in a way to paralyze them instead of killing 
them. She puts them in her storehouse so her 
wasp baby will have fresh grasshoppers to feed 
upon." 

" Thought you said there weren't any chil- 
dren in the house." 

" True, but the wasp laid an egg on one of 
the grasshoppers, and when the egg hatches 
out, the young wasp will have plenty of food to 
last until it is big enough to leave home and 
go hunting for itself." 

" Why didn't she leave the house open, papa, 
to let in a little light and air — instead of shut- 
ting it up so tight ? " 

" For the simple reason, Gladys, that certain 
little flies that have no way of paralyzing juicy 
grasshoppers would have walked right in and 
left their eggs in the house, so the fly chil- 
dren would have been sure of enough to eat 
when they were hatched. Then again, she 
wished to shut out the light and air in order 
to preserve the grasshoppers in a fresh condi- 
tion." 

" Well, I am going to tell the Bennet chil- 
dren to watch the little black wasps that walk 
in sandy places, if they want to see something 






HOLES IN THE GROUND 241 

truly wonderful/ 1 Gladys seemed to be think- 
ing aloud. 

11 You may learn a great deal more yourself 
if you continue your observation of sand 
wasps," advised the man. " They often drag 
caterpillars into their holes instead of grass- 
hoppers, and have even been known to pile 
tiny stones above the entrance to their burrows, 
to prevent other insects from discovering and 
digging their way into the treasure-house. 

" The next rainy day, Gladys, you and I will 
hunt up everything we can find in the library 
about wasps ; and in the meantime use your 
eyes." 

" Trouble is, papa, you can't always find out 
what you'd like to know, no matter how much 
you watch. I'd like to find out a few things 
about daddy-long-legs. Have they any other 
name ? " 

" Yes, they are called harvest spiders, though 
they are neither true insects nor spiders." 

" What are they, then ? " 

" They belong to a family of their own, 
Gladys, and are related to both insects and 
spiders." 

" I know, they have eight legs," commented 



242 WHAT GLADYS SAW 

the child, " because I've counted them — but 
what do they eat? I could never find out" 

" The harvest spiders are useful creatures," 
replied the man, " because they feed upon plant- 
lice, the tiny green insects so commonly found 
upon vegetation everywhere — on our rose 
bushes, for instance." 

" Where do they lay their eggs, do you know 
that ? " 

" In little holes in the ground, where they 
remain all winter, hatching out in the spring." 

" Where do the daddy-long-legs stay in the 
winter ? " 

" All but one species die on the approach of 
cold weather. The cinnamon harvest spider is 
hatched in*late summer or early autumn, and 
spends the winter sleeping under logs and 
boards." 

" Thank you. I do like to know about the 
common things we see every day, papa. Ted 
Bennet doesn't know a thing about daddy-long- 
legs, and he has always liyed among them — just 
think of it ! 

" Don't go, papa, I want to tell you about 
something I guess even you never heard of. 
Do you see that little hole in the ground ? 



HOLES IN THE GROUND 243 

What do you think I saw come out of it ? 
You never could guess. It was a big spider 
with a lot of little spiders on her back. She 
ran off into the grass with the whole family, 
and I haven't seen her since. Did you ever 
hear of anything like that ? Don't laugh, but 
tell me." 

" Yes," confessed her father, " I have ob- 
served a few ground spiders myself." 

11 Well, then, tell me all you can about them, 
for I want to know. Where was that mother 
spider taking her children ? " 

" Instead of carrying food home for her 
family," replied Mr. Birney, "she was taking 
them w r ith her on her wanderings, intending to 
feed them in the open air. Soon as they are 
hatched, the mother spider takes her children 
on her back and starts out. When they are 
self-reliant enough to leave her, they dig bur- 
rows for themselves in which they rest and 
hide. Their principal food is grasshoppers, 
crickets, and flies." 

" What are you looking for now, papa ? " 

" Another hole in the ground. Now I have 
it, Gladys ; come here, please." 

" What is it, another spider's den ? " 



244 WHAT GLADYS SAW 

" No, unless I am greatly mistaken, this is 
the retreat of a curious creature, the larva, or 
child, of the tiger-beetle. You noticed some 
tiger-beetles a few days ago, flying by the 
roadside ? " 

" Oh, yes, I remember. Look, papa ! — some- 
thing is at the top of the hole now — is that the 
head of the tiger-beetle's child ? I can't see it 
very well." 

" Wait a minute, Gladys, and we'll dig him 
out. He won't like it at all, but after we exam- 
ine him, we will let him make himself another 
burrow." 

" Here he comes. Oh, oh ! Is that the 
way the tiger-beetles' babies look ? I should 
think they would hide in the ground. Look 
at that flat head and those ugly jaws. What's 
that hump on its back for ? Please tell me all 
about the queer worm or whatever you call 
it ? " 

" Call it larva, Gladys, and then you will be 
speaking correctly." 

" See, papa, it's waving one pair of legs in 
the air instead of using them to walk with. 
Oh, I don't like the looks of that — that larva." 

" Neither do the ground dwellers for whom 



HOLES IN THE GROUND 245 

it lies in wait," observed her father. " This 
larva digs a long burrow, but spends most of 
the time at the top watching for some worm or 
insect to walk by its front door. It prefers 
large, soft worms, but whatever wanders too 
near those grasping jaws must say good-by to 
the daylight, for the larva pulls it into its hole, 
and eats it up." 

u Only," remonstrated Gladys, "doesn't it 
ever get pulled on the top of the ground itself 
by a big worm that would fight and try to get 
away ? " 

" Oh, no, child, its feet are provided with 
claws which enable the creature to cling not 
only to one side, but to the opposite sides of 
its burrow at the same time. That accounts 
for the pair of waving legs you noticed. That 
hump you observed on its back is also supplied 
with hooks which are fastened into the walls of 
the burrow so firmly the larva knows it cannot 
be pulled out. 

" If you will have patience enough to watch 
one of these holes long enough, Gladys, you 
will be sure to see, perhaps, a big cabbage 
worm disappear before your wondering gaze." 

" Wouldn't it be terrible, papa, if we didn't 



246 WHAT GLADYS SAW 

dare walk on the earth for fear some creature 
was waiting to swallow us up, or rather down ! 
That tiger-beetle larva is the worst kind of a 
child I ever heard of. I don't want to look 
into any more holes in the ground for a week, 
anyway.'' 

Gladys changed her mind. Before the day 
was done, the Bennet children were all hunting 
with her for more holes in the ground. 




CHAPTER XXIX 

HOW THE KATYDID WENT CALLING 

^HE baby was sleeping. Nora sat 
by his cradle with her scrap-book 
and a pencil in her lap. She 
%U£&&> had grown weary of copying the 
bird pictures in it, when a green- 
winged creature fluttered in at the window. In 
days gone by he might have entered that same 
room unnoticed. 

" Mamma ! Rose ! " called Nora, softly, 
"come here, please." 

"What is it, Nora?" asked Mrs. Bennet 
leaving her work in the kitchen in response to 
the child's request. 

" There's a beautiful grasshopper on the wall ; 
won't you bring it to me so I can look at it 
through the microscope ? " 

" It is a Katydid, Nora," said Mrs. Bennet. 
" I will put it here on the table beside you, and 
if it tries to fly away, you may put this tumbler 
over it." 

247 



248 WHAT GLADYS SAW 

" What do you know about Katydids, 
mamma ? " asked Nora. 

" Why/' hesitated Mrs. Bennet, " I know if a 
Katydid flies into your house, it is a sign you 
are going to have unexpected company. I'll 
send Rose, as soon as I can spare her, to tidy 
up this room." 

Nora sighed. 

" Don't you want to lie down awhile, 
Nora?" 

There w r as a world of tenderness in the 
mother's voice. 

" Oh, no, mamma, I am not tired a bit. I 
want to watch this Katydid." 

Nora's smile was reassuring. She looked 
happy and comfortable. 

" The poor young one seems like a different 
child since Gladys Birney came home," Mrs. 
Bennet told Rose, a moment later. 

"The boys behave better, too," assented 
Rose ; " they aren't nearly so rough. Maybe 
you and I would be happier, mamma, if we got 
interested in things outdoors." 

Mrs. Bennet shook her head. " We have no 
time to waste," she said. 

" Anyway," continued Rose, " I am going to 



HOW THE KATYDID WENT CALLING 249 

have flowers next summer. Mary Ellen says I 
may have all the flower seeds I will plant, and 
Ted is going to help me make a garden. We 
are going to do the way Gladys's father does — 
have w T ild cucumber vines and gourds hiding 
all the ugly places. Maybe we will have a 
vegetable garden, too," she went on. 

Her mother smiled. " I used to make such 
plans myself, but I lost my ambition long ago." 

" Eight young ones, no wonder," sympathized 
Rose. " But don't I help you do the sewing 
and the mending now, mamma, and I believe 
Ted's going to amount to something, and we've 
had all the diseases — whooping cough, scarlet 
fever, measles, chicken-pox — everything, I guess. 
It's time for us to have some good luck now. 
Then, too, we have each other." 

14 Yes," interrupted her mother, " but that is 
about all we do have, Rose." A smile accom- 
panied the words. 

" Think of poor Gladys, mamma, always 
separated from part of her family, and she says 
she loves everybody in it so much she can't tell 
who she loves most." 

" It's a pity," agreed Mrs. Bennet ; " even 
the little boys have thought of it, and are sorry 



250 WHAT GLADYS SAW 

for her. She is a beautiful child. I am sure 
we have all been happier since she came. I 
wish she were going to stay all the fall and 
winter." 

" Isn't she ? " asked Rose, in tones of aston- 
ishment. 

" No, she is going back to school in a few 
weeks." 

" Why, mamma, you must be mistaken. 
Gladys says she is going to stay here always." 

Mrs. Bennet shook her head. " Her father 
told me just the other day that he is going to 
send her back to her mother." 

In the meantime, Nora and the Katydid were 
getting acquainted. In a way, Nora was rude 
to her guest. She examined every stitch of 
his garments with a microscope. The work on 
his suit was faultless. The more closely she 
examined it the more beauties were revealed. 
Finally the Katydid became indignant. He 
had intended to make a fashionable call ; but 
found himself detained by force when he 
wished to take his departure. Worst of all, 
the young lady whom he had honored with his 
presence began asking personal questions about 
his mode of life and family affairs. When he 



HOW THE KATYDID WENT CALLINCx 251 

would not reply she thrust him in a glass 
prison. 

" Wonder if I could make a picture of him ? " 
said Nora. " I never tried copying anything 
that was alive. I am going to see what I can 
do." 

The Katydid watched Nora closely while she 
drew his picture. Once he ventured to sing, but 
gave it up when Nora dropped her pencil, and 
bent nearer to see just how he made his music. 
Such a curious child was enough to discourage 
any Katydid. 

" If that wasn't queer," commented Nora. 
" He just jerked his wings part way open and 
then closed them slowly. It's a lucky thing 
that music-boxes don't grow on Jake and the 
rest of them. Sing some more, Mr. Katydid." 

Mr. Katydid wouldn't. Perhaps he didn't 
know that a caller should try to be entertaining, 
especially when the hostess had thrown for- 
mality to the winds. 

He might have astonished Nora by telling 
her that he had from one hundred and fifty 
to two hundred brothers and sisters — though 
possibly he didn't realize the fact himself. 

The autumn before, his mother had left him 



252 WHAT GLADYS SAW 

fastened to a little twig with thirty of her other 
children. He was tucked away in an egg then, 
and never knew that he was left an orphan 
when Jack Frost came down with the North 
Wind to herald the approach of winter. 

Through the long, cold months while the 
snow lay deep upon the farm, the baby Katydid 
waited, as his mother had told him to wait, 
with patience for the spring. 

When the warm, bright days again visited 
the earth, the baby Katydid found his egg-shell 
too small and uncomfortable. His clothes 
were too tight by far, because he had been 
growing so fast. Finally, when he began to 
feel smothered in his prison, he struggled to 
get free, and at last managed to burst the egg- 
shell through the top, and halfway down one 
side. 

Out walked the baby Katydid, leaving the 
long clothes he had outgrown, clinging to the 
egg-shell. He was more than an inch in 
length, and when he looked at his long, stiff 
legs and felt of his plump, little body, he must 
have wondered how he ever could have been 
folded up and tucked away in so tiny a shell. 

Soon the baby Katydid began to leap and 



HOW THE KATYDID WENT CALLING 253 

jump — he had no wings then because he was 
too young. Katydid children never have 
wings. 

A few minutes later the little fellow began 
to feel hungry, and ate the tender young leaves 
he found everywhere around him. It wasn't 
long before he outgrew his clothes again and 
was so uncomfortable he could scarcely move. 
His clothes didn't fasten with buttons, so there 
was no way to get out of them except by 
making an effort to split open the back of his 
coat. This done, the baby Katydid managed 
to crawl out of the tight suit. Then he ate his 
old clothes. The latter act is a family custom 
among the Katydids. 

When the little fellow T had his fourth new 
suit, he was no longer considered a baby. 
His wings were beginning to grow, and there 
was dignity in his manner. Gladys, meeting 
him in the fields one day, declared that his 
little face was pretty. " You look so wise, you 
make me laugh," she told him. 

The great day came at last when the baby 
Katydid shed his fourth suit and appeared in 
wings. He might have been discouraged at 
first because his wings hung by his sides, damp 



254 WHAT GLADYS SAW 

and shapeless. Soon, however, they began to 
dry in the air and to grow hard and firm. The 
front wings, which were at first transparent, 
became a beautiful green, marked with leaf- 
like veinings. The under wings folded like 
a fan beneath them. 

How the Katydid rejoiced in his perfection. 
Night after night he sung of the joy of exist- 
ence. More than once in the daytime he was 
chased by birds, but always escaped without 
injury — escaped to tell of his adventures when 
the field musicians were gathering for the 
evening concerts. 

He was one of the happy, free creatures of 
earth when he called on Nora that summer day. 

Though he knew it not, the Katydid never 
performed a finer act than when he posed for 
the child during his brief captivity. 

Nora was so busily engaged in making 
sketches of the Katydid, that Mary Ellen passed 
the window and entered the room without 
attracting her attention. Instinctively the child 
tried to hide her work. 

" Please let me see what you are doing, 
Nora," begged Mary Ellen — and what child 
could resist Mary Ellen ? 



HOW THE KATYDID WENT CALLING 255 

" Whoever taught you to draw like that ? " 
she exclaimed. 

Nora looked pleased. " I didn't know, my- 
self, that I could make pictures of anything 
alive." 

" Who taught you, Nora ? " 

" I am not taught." 

11 How did you learn to draw ? " 

A pitiful look stole over Nora's face. " There 
was so little I could do," she apologized, " that 
I used to make pictures to keep the children 
quiet." 

Mary Ellen studied the lifelike sketches of 
the Katydid without venturing another word. 
After explaining her errand to Mrs. Bennet she 
walked slowly home, thinking of Nora, and 
wondering how her talent might be turned to 
account. She determined that it should be 
cultivated ; and whatever Mary Ellen planned 
to do, was done. 

When the four little Bennets had seen the 
Katydid, he was given his liberty. 

" The next time you come," said Nora, " I will 
understand all your secrets." But the Katydid 
never called again. He had been a silent guest, 
but one never to be forgotten. 



256 WHAT GLADYS SAW 

In the happy years that followed there were 
many who wondered why the famous artist, 
Nora Ellen Bennet, chose the Katydid as her 
mark. 







CHAPTER XXX 

MARY ELLEN'S WEDDING 

ARY ELLEN was going to be 
married. Gladys couldn't under- 
stand why the Bennets weren't in- 
vited to the wedding. It troubled 
her, though the Bennets them- 
selves didn't seem to mind being left out — they 
took it as a matter of course. 

" Perhaps," decided Gladys, " perhaps papa 
and I wouldn't be invited if we weren't rela- 
tion." This being a comfortable conclusion, so 
far as the Bennets w r ere concerned, Gladys made 
the most of it. 

Day after day she and Nora talked of the 
wedding — what Mary Ellen was going to w r ear, 
who the guests were to be, and what they were 
going to have for the wedding supper. 

The neighbors had all been impressed with the 

fact that Mary Ellen was going to marry well. 

Aunt Rebecca had done her part in that matter. 

On the morning of the great day Gladys 

promised Nora and the four little Bennets that 

257 



258 WHAT GLADYS SAW 

she would tell them everything about the wed- 
ding, — exactly what the dresses were like and 
what the minister said; just how Aunt Rebecca 
looked, and whether Uncle Reuben went to 
sleep or not. 

Mary Ellen sent for Gladys early in the morn- 
ing. The child knew that Aunt Rebecca's 
house was full of company from the city, and 
was delighted to go. It was to be a great wed- 
ding — Gladys was sure of it the moment she 
entered the house. Every one was at work — 
every one but Mary Ellen. The young ladies 
from the city, who had been Mary Ellen's friends 
in boarding-school, were decorating the house 
with green things brought from the woods by 
the young men. 

Aunt Rebecca and Jane were so busy that 
Gladys decided to say nothing, and keep out of 
the way. 

Every one was happy, or seemed to be. 
Gladys delighted in watching the gayety. She 
hung over the banisters, or fluttered through 
the halls, intent on seeing all the merriment 
and trying to escape attention herself. 

Soon after lunch Mary Ellen took Gladys 
to her room. 



MARY ELLEN'S WEDDING 259 

" I know it is rather early to get you ready 
for the wedding, Gladys ; but if I dress you 
now, you will keep yourself in order, won't 
you ? You will be careful not to muss your 
hair or soil your dress? " 

" Of course," interrupted Gladys, " I won't 
get the least bit out of order, and here's my 
bundle ; Aunt Rebecca told me to bring it 
right up here first thing, so nothing would 
happen to it." 

When Gladys was dressed, Mary Ellen 
stepped back to admire her. The bewitching 
blue bow on the little girl's hair seemed caress- 
ing the curls of gold. 

" Gladys," she exclaimed, " you are a beauti- 
ful child ! " 

" And you are a beautiful Mary Ellen ! " was 
the retort. 

" Now run downstairs and don't spoil that 
pretty white dress." 

" It will take me a long time to get ready," 
Mary Ellen confided to her mirror, " so I believe 
I'll begin now, without saying a word to any- 
body. I had rather get dressed alone, anyway ; 
and surely if Gladys can keep herself in order, 
I ought to be able to." 



260 WHAT GLADYS SAW 

Mary Ellen dressed leisurely, stopping to 
admire her own reflection from time to time. 

" I certainly do look pretty," she admitted, 
" though mother would say it's a sin to believe 
it. Of course, now, I mustn't be seen in my 
wedding-dress until time for the ceremony, 
and I'll just have to sit here for two hours." 
Accordingly, Mary Ellen seated herself by the 
window, prepared to be patient. 

Gay snatches of music floated up to her. 
There was some one at the piano most of the 
time. 

Suddenly a great sadness swept over Mary 
Ellen's spirit. She was about to leave her 
father and her mother, her sister, and the only 
home she had ever known. Tears splashed 
upon her wedding-dress. 

" I can't stay here," she whispered. " Per- 
haps if I go down to the river for a walk, I 
can conquer this feeling." 

She opened her door softly. There was no 
one in sight. Swiftly she ran down the back 
stairs. The door into the kitchen was shut ; 
the back hall was deserted. 

Another moment, and Mary Ellen had es- 
caped from the house, unseen. Soon she was 
hidden by the trees and the shrubbery. 






MARY ELLEN'S WEDDING 261 

" I'll go just as far from the house as I can, 
and have a good cry. Then I will get over it ; 
but if I had stayed in my own room — " 

Mary Ellen couldn't say another word, even 
to herself. The very trees seemed shaken by 
her convulsive sobs. 

Straight to the river she went, by the way of 
an old lane. 

" There ! " she declared, when she had cried 
for a few minutes like a great baby, " now I 
guess I can go back and behave myself ; hope 
I don't meet anybody." 

Mary Ellen was far from home when she did 
meet — the old sheep. Knowing too well that 
polite speeches would be wasted on him, she 
gathered up the precious wedding-dress and 
climbed a fence. It was the only thing she 
could have done. The sheep was an old-time 
enemy. He was no respecter of persons, but 
served his day and generation impartially. 

Perched upon the fence, Mary Ellen watched 
his approach with a sinking heart. There was 
no mercy in the sheep's grim face. He would 
keep her there until the stars came out — per- 
haps longer. 

One by one Mary Ellen recalled the stories 



262 WHAT GLADYS SAW 

of his life. She knew they were considered 
funny stories, for she had laughed about them 
herself. Now she thought of their possibilities 
from another point of view. 

Mary Ellen's memory furnished her with 
abundant food for thought, and time for reflec- 
tion seemed unlimited. 

In the meantime the guests had begun to 
arrive at the house. The dullest of them were 
quickly aware that something was wrong. 
Scarcely had Mary Ellen left the house when 
she was missed. Her mother, sister, and the 
girl friends stared blankly at the blue morning- 
dress, hanging speechless, yet eloquent, in her 
room. It was evident to them all that Mary 
Ellen had dressed for the wedding before she 
disappeared. 

Searching parties were sent in all directions 
but the right one ; yet no traces were found of 
the missing Mary Ellen. 

The guests wandered aimlessly about the 
rooms, or sat in stiff, uncomfortable groups, 
possessed by a vague dread. Mary Ellen had 
been a favorite among them since her birth. 
Through all that country the neighbors had 
rejoiced in the glory of the sunshine as they 



MARY ELLEN'S WEDDING 2G3 

told each other, "This is Mary Ellen's wedding- 
day." 

Gladys clung to her father's hand, oppressed 
with fear. She dared ask no questions, but 
when the old clock in the hall told the hour 
for the wedding ceremony, and no bride 
appeared on the broad stairway, she knew that 
something had happened to Mary Ellen. 

Aunt Rebecca maintained an appearance of 
outward calm, but the tears rolled unheeded 
down her cheeks when she caught a glimpse of 
Mary Ellen, crossing the lawn, accompanied by 
the four little Bennets. Rose and Ted ap- 
peared with Nora, a few minutes later. 

" The old sheep had her treed!" announced 
Sammie, to all whom it might concern. 

There was a moment of silence as Mary 
Ellen appeared at the door; then rose a cheer 
that could not be suppressed. Mary Ellen was 
never lovelier to look upon. She was dressed 
in her grandmother's white silk wedding-gown^ 
whose shimmering beauty was forgotten by all 
who beheld her face. 

So Mary Ellen was married, and the Bennet 
children, one and all, were invited to the wed- 
ding. 



CHAPTER XXXI 



GLADYS EXPLAINS MATTERS 




Y DEAREST MOTHER: Mary 

Ellen couldn't have got married 
if it hadn't been for those blessed 
Bennet children. Papa still calls 
them a * tribe.' She went out to 
walk in her wedding-dfess, — Aunt Rebecca 
says it was an unheard-of thing to do, — and the 
old sheep got her on a fence a long way from 
the house. On the other side of the fence was 
a swamp, so Mary Ellen couldn't do anything 
but stay there and wait. 

" Mrs. Bennet had dressed all her children in 
their best clothes, because it was Mary Ellen's 
wedding-day, and she said you couldn't tell 
who might see them. 

" Rose wanted to see Mary Ellen in her wed- 
ding-dress, so she took the four little boys with 
her, and went out walking. Rose had an idea 
that they might go to the back of the house by 

264 



GLADYS EXPLAINS MATTERS 265 

a roundabout way, and then hide somewhere, 
and maybe catch a glimpse of Mary Ellen. 

" When they saw her on the fence, they 
didn't have a minute to think about her wed- 
ding-dress or her white slippers, because the 
old sheep got after them, and they had to 
scramble for their lives. 

" At last that sweet little Jake took off his 
shoes and stockings, and ran along the swampy 
side of the fence, until he got far enough away 
so he dared climb over and go for Ted. When 
Ted got there, he tied up the old sheep, and 
Mary Ellen invited all the children to her wed- 
ding. Rose asked if she and Ted might bring 
Nora in her cart, and Mary Ellen said yes ; but 
she guessed they would all be a little late for 
the wedding, and they were. 

" Jake was the only barefooted one there. 

" Every one had the gayest kind of a time, 
even if everything didn't go just as Aunt Re- 
becca and the city girls planned — about Mary 
Ellen marching down the stairs, I mean, and 
such proper things. 

" Nora was all the style, and I guess she is 
going to have a happy life after all. They 
say she is an artist, and one of the city girls, 



266 WHAT GLADYS SAW 

who is rich, is coming for Nora in the fall, and 
is going to keep her all winter if her mother 
will let her go, so she will have a chance to 
learn to be an illustrator. 

" Aunt Rebecca thinks Mrs. Bennet will 
surely let her go, because the girl's mother is 
a nice woman and it will be a good chance for 
Nora. 

" Mary Ellen looked almost as pretty as you, 
mamma, and when papa and I got home after 
the wedding, you can't guess how big and still 
and lonesome our own home seemed. Every 
old chair was calling for you. Papa and I 
just couldn't stay in the house. We went out 
on the porch, and he held me in his lap, and 
we watched the moon rise. 

" We don't have any more Band of Mercy 
meetings, I am sorry to say. We all got tired 
of them. The little Bennets wear their but- 
tons and learn all the new songs I will teach 
them, but they won't have meetings, and I am 
glad of it because I got so sick of them myself. 

" The other day I went in our shut-up parlor 
and tried the piano, but I got out of there 
quick and shut the door again, tight. The 
piano is out of tune, I guess. 



GLADYS EXPLAINS MATTERS 267 

" Papa and I go to church every Sunday 
twice a day. He will do anything I want him 
to, 'anything within reason' — that is what he 
says. 

" You ought to be here now, mamma, so 
you could see the walking-sticks. They are 
the queerest insects you ever heard of. The 
oak trees are full of them ; you shake a limb 
and down will come the walking-sticks on your 
head, maybe. They look just like twigs, and 
you would think them part of the tree unless 
you happened to see them move. Their long 
legs are like twigs, too, and they haven't 
wings. 

" Papa told me the eggs are laid in the 
autumn, and that in the springtime the lids 
of the eggs are pushed open and out come little 
green walking-sticks. When they grow older, 
they change in color; but while they are green, 
they feed upon the grass where they won't be 
seen so plainly. Later, when they grow darker, 
like bark, they climb trees. 

" Maybe you can see some walking-sticks 
at home, if you will go out in the park and 
look for them. They are about three inches 
long. 



268 WHAT GLADYS SAW 

" There are some nice folks out here in the 
country. Papa and I are getting acquainted 
with them. We are invited out to tea often, 
and we always have a good time. If you 
would come home, I think you could get up a 
' Woman's Club.' 

" It's going to be lonesome without Mary 
Ellen. 

" Write soon, to your loving daughter, 

" Gladys Birney." 




CHAPTER XXXII 

THE BOOK OF COMMON THINGS 

?APA, do you feel like answering 
about two hundred questions ? " 
Mr. Birney tossed his news- 
paper upon the grass, bestow- 
ing on Gladys an expression of 
mock despair. 

" There is no doubt in my mind regarding 
your ability to ask two hundred questions in 
succession," he retorted. 

" Thought I could scare you," laughed the 
child. u Trouble is, I have neglected my book 
of common things. Now, papa, here is my 
vegetable list. I want to know where all these 
things came from first : potatoes, onions, — I 
put them down just as they came into my 
mind, — beets, cabbages, cucumbers, celery, 
lettuce, radishes, and — " 

11 Hold on, my child, hold on ! Your poor old 
father can't tell you of the origin of anything 
you have mentioned so far, except potatoes." 

269 



270 WHAT GLADYS SAW 

" What shall we do, then ? " Gladys stared 
at her father, scarcely believing it possible that 
he meant what he said. 

Mr. Birney went into the house, returning 
with a large book. 

" Here we have it," he said. " Now get your 
note-book ready and we will study this subject 
together." 

All through the long afternoon the father 
and child enjoyed themselves poring over the 
volume entitled, " The Origin of Cultivated 
Plants." 

" You will help me put these things down in 
my book, won't you, papa, because it takes so 
long to think how you ought to write things 
so they will read straight ? " 

" That is a fact, Gladys ; yes, I will help you 
this time. Are you ready ? " 

" Yes ; begin with potatoes, papa." 

" All right, ' Potatoes,' page 45, ' Sweet Pota- 
toes,' page 53. We will read the sketches 
before deciding what you need for your valu- 
able work." 

" First, papa, won't you please print my title 
on the cover ? Just say, like this : — 



THE BOOK OF COMMON THINGS 271 
BOOK OF COMMON THINGS 

BY 

GLADYS BIRNEY" 

11 To be sure, my child ; and I believe Nora 
would enjoy doing the illustrating for you from 
time to time." 

" Yes, sir, I know she would." 

The next morning Gladys carried her book 
to the Bennet cottage for the purpose of con- 
sulting her illustrator. 

Nora considered it an honor to be allowed to 
make the sketches, and straightway sent the 
four little Bennets for potato-vines. 

" I really don't know what potato leaves look 
like, nor whether they grow in clusters or pairs, 
or how," she admitted. 

11 Neither do I," confessed Gladys. " Isn't it 
fun to have to find out about things ? " 

" Guess it is," agreed Nora. " Please read to 
me what you wrote yesterday." 

" All right. I think my vegetable pages are 
pretty good." 

" Why, of course they must be," interrupted 
her listener. 

" The common potato is an American. It 



272 WHAT GLADYS SAW 

grew wild in Chile, and was cultivated in South 
America long before the New World was discov- 
ered. When Darwin made his voyage in the 
Beagle, he found potatoes growing wild in 
Chile. Some of the plants were four feet high, 
and the potatoes didn't taste bad when they 
were cooked." 

" Who was Darwin ? " interrupted Nora. 

" Darwin was a man of science who died 
long ago," hesitated Gladys. " I don't know 
much about him myself. I guess I will have 
to ask my father some questions about him. 

" The potato was first introduced into 
Europe by the Spaniards. Later, Sir Walter 
Raleigh, finding the potato in Virginia, im- 
ported it into Ireland. To tell the truth, the 
man who really took the potato to Ireland was 
Thomas Herriott, instead of Sir Walter Ral- 
eigh, who always got the credit for doing 
everything because he was a great man, any- 
way. 

" Mr. Richard Birney says, though, that 
potatoes were discovered by a Frenchman, 
because he has seen his grave in France, 
with potato-vines growing on it. 

" The sweet potato belongs to a different 



family. Nobody can be sure just where it 
came from in the first place. It is generally 
supposed to be an American. It is said that 
Christopher Columbus, when he returned from 
his first voyage, offered some to Queen Isa- 
bella as one of the productions of the New 
World. 

" The Greeks, Romans, and Arabs didn't have 
sweet potatoes; neither did the Egyptians. 

" Some people pretend to believe that the 
sweet potato originated in Asia, but Mr. 
Richard Birney is sure it is a native of South 
America. 

" No botanist ever found it growing wild 
anywhere in the world, and that is why it is 
impossible to tell where its first home was. 

" Onions belong to Asia. They have been 
found growing wild there. The ancient 
Greeks, Romans, and Egyptians had onions. 
The Egyptians made pictures of them on 
their monuments. The onion is cultivated 
in India, China, and Japan. 

" Cucumbers are natives of northern India. 
They have been cultivated in India for three 
thousand years, — though they were not intro- 
duced into China until the second century 



274 WHAT GLADYS SAW 

before Christ. The Greeks and Romans cul- 
tivated cucumbers. 

" Europe is the home of the cabbage. It 
has been found growing wild on rocks by 
the seashore in northern Europe. 

" Wild beets grow in the Canary Islands and 
along the coast of the Mediterranean Sea. The 
beet was not cultivated until three or four hun- 
dred years before Christ. The ancient Greeks 
and the Romans used its leaves and roots. 

" It is hard to tell about radishes. They 
have been cultivated in the gardens of the 
Old World since the earliest times. The man 
who wrote the book read by Mr. Richard 
Birney, says they probably came originally 
from western Asia. 

" Horse radish is a different thing, and 
originated in eastern Europe. 

" Celery grows wild in parts of Europe, 
Asia, and Africa. It has been a garden plant 
for a long time. 

" The ancient Greeks and Romans used to 
make lettuce salad. Lettuce has been cul- 
tivated extensively during the last two thou- 
sand years, and originated in the temperate 
regions of Europe, Asia, and Africa. 



THE BOOK OF COMMON THINGS 275 

" Spinach came from Persia. 

" Parsnips, carrots, and turnips are from 
Europe. 

" The author is thankful to find that pump- 
kins and squashes originated in North Amer- 
ica, and tomatoes came from Peru." 

" Is that all ? " inquired Nora. 

" No, but I got tired of writing, so I didn't 
put down much about different kinds of fruit." 

" Well, read the rest, — don't stop." 

" Oranges came from China, lemons from 
India. Grape-vines grow wild in Europe, 
Asia, and Africa. Birds scattered the grape 
seeds, perhaps, before the existence of man. 
Grapes were cultivated, and wine was made 
in Egypt six thousand years ago. 

11 Strawberries grow wild in almost all parts 
of the world, even in Iceland. 

" Plums and cherries, apples and pears are 
from Europe. Peaches originated in China ; 
the Chinese have many legends and super- 
stitions regarding them. 

" The watermelon is an African. 

11 The banana comes from southern Asia. 

" The pineapple is an American plant. 

" There, Nora, that is all I wrote." 



276 WHAT GLADYS SAW 

" Was there anything else in the book? " 

" Oh, yes, but I was tired of writing; and then, 
too, I was afraid I couldn't remember much 
more." 

" Can you remember all you have just read 
to me ? " asked Nora, in tones expressing doubt. 

" Indeed, I can. I guess when you get up a 
book yourself, you won't forget what is in it. 
You will know everything I do, by the time 
you get the pictures made," laughed Gladys. 

11 What else was in the big book ? " persisted 
Nora. 

" Oh, all about where peas and beans and 
grains, and all kinds of cultivated plants origi- 
nated. I shall put more in my book of com- 
mon things the next time we have a rainy 
day." 

" And I guess I will copy everything you 
find out, in my scrap-book," announced Nora. 



CHAPTER XXXIII 




BABY TUMBLE-BUG'S FIRST JOURNEY 

|R. BIRNEY, do you know where 
Gladys is ? " Jake was out of 
breath. 

" I came over here as fast as I 
could run, because Nora wants 
her to come over and see her pictures." 

" Why, no, my boy, I don't know where she 
is. I haven't seen Gladys for more than an 
hour. Perhaps you will find her in the or- 
chard or down the maple lane. She can't be 
far away." 

Jake departed without ceremony, returning 
in a few moments, somewhat after the manner 
of an exploding fire-cracker. 

" Come quick ! " he gasped, " Gladys wants 
you." 

Mr. Birney needed no urging. He followed 
the plump little Jake immediately. Gladys was 
on her knees in the barn-yard. 



278 WHAT GLADYS SAW 

" What is the matter, child ? " called her father. 

" I have discovered some new bug that I 
want you to see." 

" Is that all ? " 

" All ! Why, papa, these bugs are regular 
circus performers. I never saw anything like 
it." 

Jake stretched himself face downward upon 
the grass. 

" The tiger-beetle's baby will nip your toes, if 
you don't watch out," warned Gladys. " He 
lives down in a little hole in the ground, and 
he'll think your toe is a nice, soft worm." 

"Aw, who's afraid?" said Jake. Surely he 
wasn't, but he kept his feet waving in the air 
after that, in the most unconcerned fashion. 

" Oh, papa, I wish you had been here sooner ; 
right under there in the ground is a bug — like 
this one that I have penned up here. What is 
its name? Its back is flat, and it is the black- 
est bug I ever saw. Do tell me." 

"That is a tumble-bug, Gladys." 

" Look, papa, quick ! The buried bug is 
coming out of the ground again." 

" Certainly ; you didn't suppose Mother Tum- 
ble-bug was going through to China, did you ? 



BABY TUMBLE-BUG'S FIRST JOURNEY 279 

She is looking for Father Tumble-bug, Gladys ; 
you'd better let him go." 

" All this fuss about two black bugs ! " Jake 
was plainly disgusted. 

" Well, Jake Bennet, I guess if you knew 
what those two black bugs did, you'd open your 
eyes. When I first saw them, sir, they were 
rolling a ball that was bigger than they were." 

"Aw, — who ever heard of such a thing?" 
pouted Jake. 

" You have, haven't you, papa ? " 

"Come, Jake," laughed Mr. Birney, " let's 
hunt for a pair of these circus bugs for our- 
selves." 

" I'll help," offered Gladys. " I'd like to watch 
them forever, only I don't believe there are any 
more like them here, because I never saw any 
before, and maybe they were only playing with 
that ball. Though what did they bury it for, 
papa r 

" Because a hole in the ground is the proper 
nursery for Baby Tumble-bug, who was tucked 
away in an egg in his crib." 

" What was his crib ? " 

" That ball of dirt." 

" But, papa, how could Baby Tumble-bug 



280 WHAT GLADYS SAW 

ever get out ? Don't you see how the hole is 
all filled up with dirt?" 

" He'll get out just the way his mother did, 
by digging his way to the surface with his 
strong feet." 

" Look a-here ! " announced Jake. " I've 
found 'em at work, and now I believe it. Will 
you keep watch of 'em while I go for Sammie 
and Jimmie and Tommie? " 

" Yes, yes," consented Gladys, " bring Ted, 
too. He won't let the grass grow under- his 
feet, papa. Just look at him go ! Why is it," 
she continued, " that I never saw tumble-bugs 
before ? " 

" Simply because you never looked for them, 
Gladys ; the world about us is full of unnoticed 
wonders." 

Soon the Bennet flock arrived. 

" There ! Ted Bennet, what do you think of 
that ? " exclaimed Gladys. 

Mother Tumble-bug climbed upon the ball, 
tipping it forward by her weight, while Father 
Tumble-bug, standing upon his head, pushed it 
with his hind feet. Over and over went the 
ball, keeping Mother Tumble-bug constantly 
remounting. 






BABY TUMBLE-BUG'S FIRST JOURNEY 281 

" What are they doing ? " inquired Ted. 

" Rolling a ball — can't you see ? " insisted 
Tommie. 

" They are giving Baby Tumble-bug a ride," 
explained Gladys. " He is inside the ball in an 

e gg-" 

" What's the use of rolling the poor young 

one around like that?" asked Jimmie, seri- 
ously. 

" Oh, he doesn't care ; that ball is his go-cart, 
I guess, anyway. When Father and Mother 
Tumble-bug find a place that suits them, they'll 
turn the go-cart into a crib. A hole in the 
ground that Mother Tumble-bug will dig, will 
be the nursery." 

" Oh," interrupted Ted, " she'll dig a hole, 
will she, and afterwards roll the ball right 
in ? " 

" No, sir ! I guess that would break Baby 
Tumble-bug's neck, maybe, or wake him 
up, because she rolls him into the nursery 
gently." 

"I'd like to know how?" 

" Oh, she just got under the ball and ploughed 
up the ground beneath and around it. First 
thing I knew the ball began to sink. 



282 WHAT GLADYS SAW 

" You see, don't you, that the tumble-bug 
has three pairs of legs. She got right under 
that ball, children, with her back down and her 
feet up. Just at first I could see that she pulled 
on the ball with her middle legs, and dug and 
tossed up the earth with her front legs and her 
hind legs. Another minute and she was out of 
sight. The ball kept sinking until the earth 
caved in on top of it. After a little while the 
tumble-bug came out and walked away." 

The four little Bennets laughed merrily at 
the ups and down encountered by Mother 
Tumble-bug and Father Tumble-bug in their 
efforts to roll their go-cart into a place that 
suited them. Often they appeared to stop and 
talk about which way to go. More than once 
Mother Tumble-bug rolled over and over with 
the ball from the summit of a little hill. Mr. 
Tumble-bug, always walking backward on his 
head, couldn't tell into what trouble he was 
pushing Mrs. Tumble-bug. She, like a good 
mother, never released her grasp of the precious 
go-cart, no matter what happened. 

The little Bennets weren't satisfied until 
they had seen the ball disappear into the hole 
Mother Tumble-bug prepared for its reception. 









BABY TUMBLE-BUG'S FIRST JOURNEY 283 

ki If I hadn't seen the whole performance," 
declared Ted, " I wouldn't have believed it." 

11 That beetle," Mr. Birney informed the chil- 
dren, " was once worshipped in Egypt. He 
was the sacred scarab then, the emblem of 
immortality." 

" What's that ? " questioned Jake. 

" Oh, every time you saw one it would remind 
you that your soul can never die," Gladys 
volunteered. 

" The tombs of Egypt," continued Mr. Bir- 
ney, " were decorated with engravings of this 
beetle, and it was painted upon their coffins. 
" It was also carved in precious stones as per- 
sonal ornaments." 

" Was it the very same, funny old tumble- 
bug ? " asked Gladys. 

" The very one." 

" Were its habits the same ? " 

11 Exactly — the sacred scarab of ancient 
Egypt did just as you saw the tumble-bugs 
do to-day. Father and Mother Tumble-bug 
have the most distinguished ancestors of any 
insects/' 

11 I'd like to stay right here until Baby Tumble- 
bug comes out of his crib," said Gladys. 



284 WHAT GLADYS SAW 

"Well, I wouldn't/' declared Ted, "because 

I'm hungry." 

ki So we all are," Sammie chimed in. 

A few minutes later the tumble-bugs were 
left to their own devices, unobserved. 



CHAPTER XXXIV 



A LAZY FELLOW IN BLUE 




[APA BIRNEY, you pretty near 
stepped on a whole family, right 
here in the path. What are they, 
anyway? Oh, the clumsy crea- 
tures ! Will they bite ? Dare I 
touch one ? " 

" No, they won't bite, but you'll be sorry if 
you pick them up. Touch one with a grass 
and see what it will do." 

" Oh, papa, see it turn on its back ; and now 
— did you ever hear of anything like it ? — that 
bug is pumping yellow drops out of its joints. 
Oh, the fat, horrid, bug — only, it's a lovely blue 
color, isn't it ? What do you call it ? " 

" That is a floundering beetle, Gladys, and 
is called either the oil-beetle or the indigo 
beetle." 

" It seems to me the beetles have a lot of 
relations," protested Gladys, examining the one 

285 



286 WHAT GLADYS SAW 

in question with her microscope. " It can't be 
much fun to be this one, without any wings. 
Its eyes are blue, too, papa. What does it 
eat ? " 

" In its present condition, Gladys, it feeds 
upon buttercup leaves." 

" Can you tell me its story, papa ? Where 
did it live when it was a baby ? " 

" Its first home was in a meadow under a 
stone, where it had been tucked away in an 
egg all winter. It first saw r the light in April, 
when it crept out of the egg-shell. It was 
then a lively little fellow with thirteen joints 
in its body. Its three pairs of legs were each 
provided with three claws. 

" The baby beetle waited until a bumblebee 
came near enough so he could catch a ride." 

" Now, papa, are you making this up ? " 

" No, I am telling you exactly the doings of 
any young indigo beetle. The lively baby 
jumped on the bumblebee's back, walked all 
over him until he found a place that suited 
him underneath the great body; then he clung 
to the bumblebee with his eighteen claws 
while they went sailing through the sky. 

" Afterward the little adventurer left the 



A LAZY FELLOW IN BLUE 287 

bumblebee for a honey-bee. He liked the 
taste of her, and ate her tender flesh whenever 
he was hungry. You must remember that he 
was small then. 

" Finally he went to sleep in a honeycomb ; 
and when he awoke, his long legs were gone, 
and in place of them were six short ones — 
simply feet. Being desperately hungry, he ate 
up the baby honey-bee that was in his cell. 
After that the honey-bee, supposing she was 
feeding her own child, kept bringing him bee 
bread, made of pollen and honey. 

" Then came another change : he went to 
sleep again, and when he awoke, he was a full- 
fledged floundering beetle — as you see him 
now. His early days were his happiest. 

" Now shut your eyes, Gladys, so you won't 
see another thing to ask questions about until 
we reach the house." 

" All right, here's my hand ; lead me — play 
I'm blind. 

11 I can't help thinking," she added, " that if 
the beetles should have a family reunion, they 
would have a great many, strange, different 
stories to tell." 



CHAPTER XXXV 




JAKE DISCOVERS THE YELLOWBIRDS 1 HOME 

HE yellowbird, the goldfinch, was 
too busy to bother her head with 
legends or family history. She 
had delayed her nest-building 
until the time of thistledown, and 
her mind was completely filled with house- 
keeping affairs. 

The American goldfinch, the little lady who 
worked so cheerfully through the long days of 
late summer, has been well named the bird of 
the "beautiful soul." 

How could she know that, way in the past, 
her first mother was a sunbeam. Yet such is 
the story. The wind and the hemlock loved 
the sunbeam, but the wind was so rough and 
wild, she feared him. 

She sought the shelter of the hemlock because 
he was gentle and loved her tenderly — hiding 
her close in his great heart. 

288 



THE YELLOWBIRDS' HOME 289 

There came a day when the wind found her 
and carried her away to his home in the wilds. 
He tried, in his rude fashion, to make her happy ; 
but the sunbeam was ever sad until the sun, in 
pity, set her free. Thus the sunbeam became 
the yellowbird, the goldfinch. 

Straight she flew to her old home in the hem- 
lock and built her nest in his branches. 

Again the wind found her, but the yellowbird 
no longer feared him. She knew he was her 
friend at last, for he gently swung her nest, and 
sung to her the soft, low songs she loved the 
best. 

Ever since that day the wind has trained the 
little yellowbirds to sing. It is he who has 
taught them their high, shrill notes and their 
sweet, woodland melodies. 

When the concert season was over, the yel- 
lowbird and her mate had chosen to build their 
home among the thistle plants. The year be- 
fore they had built earlier, in a maple tree. 

One season they had a dreadful experience 
with a cow-bird. The mother yellowbird had 
stepped out just a minute to speak to a neigh- 
bor, when a cow-bird entered her home and left 
one of her great children to be cared for. The 



290 WHAT GLADYS SAW 

helpless outcast was tucked away in an egg, just 
as the yellowbird babies were at the time, and 
the mother yellowbird adopted him without 
question. 

The cow-bird came out of the shell and began 
crying for food long before the yellowbirds 
precious nestlings saw the light. Later, the 
greedy fellow ate all the food that was brought 
to the nest for the whole family, and pushed 
and crowded the little yellowbird babies, until 
one by one they died of starvation and neglect. 

Yet the mother yellowbird, though she must 
have been heart-broken, did not desert her 
adopted child. Every inch a lady, she tried to 
make a gentleman of the wretched cow-bird — 
tried to make him refined and gentle in his 
manners, but without success. He was a tyrant 
in his treatment of her. When he was nearly 
twice her size, he followed her around, compel- 
ling her to feed him — rascal that he was. 

The father bird tried to teach him to sing 
yellowbird music, but gave it up as a useless 
task. 

Finally the cow-bird child, strong and full 
grown, joined his own tribe without a word 
of thanks to the little yellowbird mother. 




THE GREEDY FELLOW ATE ALL THE FOOD THAT WAS BROUGHT TO 

THE NEST." 



THE YELLOWBIRDS' HOME 291 

Thus it was that the father yellowbird was 
determined to harbor no more adopted children 
in his home. While the mother yellowbird 
worked at nest-building, he, though pretending 
to help, spent most of his time watching the 
black-robed cow-birds. 

The nest was finished at last. The two birds 
had reason to be proud of its perfection. Woven 
of fine grasses, moss, and vegetable fibre, in 
shape like a cup, it was thickly lined with 
thistledown. 

Soon, six bluish-white eggs were resting in 
the bed of down, like jewels in a casket. 

Then the father bird sung while he watched, 
" Hear me, hear me, dearie. " 

Down among the thistles " Dearie " cuddled 
the eggs beneath her wings and was happy. 

It was then the enemy appeared — an enemy 
the yellowbird father had forgotten. 

A barefooted boy tramped through the 
meadow, whistling. In a moment he read the 
yellowbird father's secret. 

u Oh, yes, I know; youve got a nest along 
there by the fence," said the boy, Jake. " Can't 
fool me ; I know how birds act when they've 
got a nest. I'll find your house, Mr. Bird." 



292 WHAT GLADYS SAW 

The father yellowbird warned the mother 
yellowbird of danger; but she, brave soul, re- 
mained on guard until the enemy's face shut 
out the blue sky. 

11 Oh, such luck ! " exclaimed Jake, reaching 
for the nest. 

"Please don't, please don't, please don't!" 
begged the father bird. 

" Well, I'd like to know why not ? " retorted 
Jake, withdrawing his hands and looking has- 
tily about the meadow. No one was there unless 
it was the One who made the birds. Jake felt 
that He might be watching. 

" That's the worst of going to Sunday-school," 
the boy grumbled. 

In all his life Jake had never before looked 
at birds' eggs without taking them instantly. 
He had considered them his property by right 
of discovery. 

Again he stretched one hand toward the 
nest, withdrew it, and tried the other. Neither 
hand would do the deed. 

The birds hovered near, crying piteously. 

"Who cares!" said Jake, leaning over and 
gazing earnestly into the nest. 

The Band of Mercy button fell to the ground. 



THE YELLOWBIRDS' HOME 293 

Jake picked it up. The pin was broken. The 
boy frowned at the white star; that seemed to 
reproach him. 

Into Jake's pocket went that Band of Mercy 
button, and he reached resolutely toward the 
eggs. Nora would like to see them. No, — 
she wouldn't. He wouldn't dare show them to 
Nora. He wouldn't dare let any one know 
that he took them. He would be so ashamed 
if Gladys should ever find it out. The One 
who created the birds would be displeased — 
angry. 

Then, too, Jake had promised to be kind to 
every living thing and to protect it from cruel 
usage. That settled it; Jake would keep his 
promise. 

The barefooted boy tramped out of the 
meadow, whistling. 

Father Yellowbird and Mother Yellowbird 
returned thanks. 

Every day after that they entertained callers, 
and soon lost all fear of children who simply 
looked at them without disturbing a leaf near 
their nest. 

Before the yellowbird babies were strong 
enough to fly, their pictures had been taken 



294 WHAT GLADYS SAW 

again and again, by a tall man with a 
camera. 

Jake was never happier in his life than he 
was the day Nora was taken to the meadow to 
see the eggs he would not steal. Mr. Birney 
gave him a picture of the nest as it looked at 
that time — a picture Jake treasured then and 
always. 



CHAPTER XXXVI 




INTERVIEWING THE GOLDENRODS 

HE goldenrods are good listeners. 
Aunt Rebecca talked to them 
freely. No member of their family 
was ever known to interrupt a 
conversation. 
They waited down the road while Aunt Re- 
becca called upon her nephew, Richard Birney ; 
then they accompanied her home, keeping 
close by the fences, and merely bowing in re- 
sponse to her remarks. 

" When I thought him a selfish man, I was 
mistaken," she began. " How I could have 
known him all these years without understand- 
ing him better, is curious. Selfish — why, self- 
ishness isn't in him. He is going to send that 
child away from him, — send her back to her 
mother, — because he thinks it is better for 
Gladys to be with her mother." 

The goldenrods maintained silence, though 
the wind whispered a word of sympathy. 

295 



296 WHAT GLADYS SAW 

" I'd like to tell that woman what I think of 
her, but it isn't probable I'll ever get a chance. 

" Gladys, poor young one, doesn't want to 
leave her father. I wish he hadn't told her he 
was going to send her away, while I was there 
to see her cry. She acted just about as Mary 
Ellen did when she drove away from home. 
Maybe Richard is right; maybe Gladys needs 
better schooling than she could get here, but 
plenty of good men and women have grown up 
in the country schools. 

" Dear me, I am sorry for that man, and he's 
my relation, too. How did that poor young 
one get it into her head that her mother ever 
intends to come back? She sobbed over and 
over that if her father would only let her stay, 
her mother would come home. Dear me, I'll 
never forget it. If I were Richard, I would 
keep that child, but he will insist that she is too 
young to know what is for her own good. 

" That little one is his idol. I never saw 
such a change in a man as there has been in 
him this summer. He has come right out of 
his shell. I am ready to own up that it may 
not do any harm to get interested in things out- 
doors, and learn the ways of the wild creatures 






INTERVIEWING THE GOLDENRODS 297* 

on one's farm, and it is my opinion that Richard 
would be glad to own up to some of his mis- 
takes. Human beings were made to love each 
other, that is sure." 

Aunt Rebecca paused a moment to watch a 
yellowbird feasting upon goldenrod seeds. 

" Every child in the Bennet family has 
learned to look upon that man as a friend," she 
went on, " and it is more than I can understand. 
Possibly he has just discovered that the human 
family is worth studying. 

" And I promised to pack Gladys's trunk just 
as soon as Richard hears from her mother. 
School begins earlier here than it does in town, 
it seems, and he has put off speaking to the 
child about going back. 

" She ought to be a good child with such a 
father." 

The goldenrods stood with bowed heads on 
either side of the gate, allowing Aunt Rebecca 
to pass between them, when she reached home. 

If Mary Ellen had been there, she would 
have invited them in. 

Aunt Rebecca left the goldenrod, standing 
like soldiers on guard. 




CHAPTER XXXVII 

GLADYS WRITES TO HER GRANDFATHER 

|Y DEAREST GRANDPA: If 

I had known you wanted me to 
write to you, I would have writ- 
ten you a letter long ago. I do 
love you and grandma — how 
could I help it ? — but don't you see, I love my 
father, too ; and he ought to have somebody of 
his own with him. I didn't know it would 
make you and grandma feel badly because I 
want to stay here. You have mamma, now, 
and papa has me. 

" The country isn't lonesome, grandpa. It is 
a beautiful place, — much nicer than the city. 

" Papa was surprised when mamma wrote 
and told him to keep me here ; and for a little 
while I didn't know whether I was surely glad 
or sorry, because it makes me have a lump in 
my throat when I think how long it is since 
I have seen my mother and you and grandma. 

298 



GLADYS WRITES TO HER GRANDFATHER 290 

" Tell grandma that I am remembering my 
manners, and I am learning some new ones. 
I am even polite to the horses and cows. 

" The school out here is the best one I ever 
went to. The teacher is pretty and kind to all 
the children. She never was in the country 
before, and likes it most as well as I do. 
Tommie Bennet made every one laugh in 
school one day by telling what his Band of 
Mercy button meant. He couldn't tell it 
straight, but told the teacher to ask me about 
it. That is how we happen to have a Band 
of Mercy in our school now. The teacher got 
interested in it and started one. We don't 
have any recess Friday afternoons, but we 
sing Band of Mercy songs and have exercises. 
The first Friday the subject was cats. The 
teacher gave different ones in the school some- 
thing to read about cats — their history and 
all sorts of interesting things we never heard 
of. She says she spent hours and hours hunt- 
ing up the information, and that we mustn't 
think we are the only ones who studied. She 
told me that she has studied more since she 
left school than she ever did in school. 

" The girls all think that Ted Bennet is just 



300 WHAT GLADYS SAW 

about right now, because he whistles bird 
songs and answers questions that the rest of 
us can't. Queer, nobody used to like him. 

" Nora goes to school for the first time in 
her life. She is a great deal stronger than she 
ever was before. Ted bought her a little 
wheeled chair with money he earned picking 
berries. He had saved money for three years 
to get her a. wonderful cart, and one night 
after school he told the new teacher about it; 
and she sent for a book with wheeled chairs in 
it, and they picked one out and sent for it. 
Nora looked so happy and contented. When 
the cold weather comes, her father is going to 
bring her to school. 

" We are going to have a birds' restaurant 
beside of the schoolhouse this winter. The 
boys are going to make the table, and all the 
children will save the crumbs from their dinner 
pails to feed the winter birds with. Papa has 
given me a list of the ones we may expect, and 
he is going to hunt up colored pictures of them 
for me to take to school for the children to 
study, so when we see birds, we will know 
their names. He thinks it is too early now to 
begin to study about them, but I told him if 



GLADYS WRITES TO HER GRANDFATHER 301 

he would give me the list of birds that come in 
the winter, I wouldn't say anything to the 
children about it yet, so here they are: Junco, 
Tree Sparrow, Redpoll, Snowflake, Winter 
Wren, Red-breasted Nuthatch and Golden 
Crowned Kinglet. I don't know one of them, 
and papa says we may see a great many others. 
A good many birds that are here now will 
stay all winter. The dear little yellowbirds 
put on different suits and stay. Then there 
are Bob White, Hawks, Owls, and Woodpeckers, 
the Crow, the Blue Jay, Song Sparrow, the 
darling Chickadee, and I don't know how 
many others. 

" You see, grandpa, it can't be lonesome 
here. 

" Late in the autumn the teacher is going to 
take the children out to hunt for birds' nests 
some Saturday. She says it is all right to 
take the nests when the birds are through with 
them. Papa is going to examine the collection 
and write the name of each bird's nest on a 
slip of paper to be pinned to the specimen. 

" The Friday afternoon following, we are 
going to pull the birds' nests all to pieces to 
find out what they are made of. We have got 



302 WHAT GLADYS SAW 

to write down the different kinds of material 
different birds use. The teacher says maybe 
we will have to study birds' nests this way two 
or three Friday afternoons before we will know 
about all the nests we get. 

" Then in the spring every child in school is 
going to bring things for the birds to build 
with. I guess we will begin saving strings in 
the winter, and just as soon as the buds come 
out on the trees, we are going to hang all sorts 
of attractions on the bushes, fences, and every- 
where there is a place to put a bit of cotton or 
yarn, or anything we happen to have. Papa 
says he guesses the schoolyard will look like a 
dry-goods store on bargain day. 

" My father was elected school director this 
fall, — they always wanted him to be one, but 
he wouldn't, — and he has promised the teacher 
that this winter he will talk to the school about 
trees half an hour every week. I don't know 
the names of half the trees I see, but he can 
tell, by looking at a piece of bark, to what tree 
it belongs. 

" There will be sleigh-ride parties this winter, 
and all kinds of fun. I am going to learn to 
skate, too. 



GLADYS WRITES TO HER GRANDFATHER 303 

" Oh, I almost forgot to answer what you 
asked me about in your letter — if I had got 
at the bottom of any more mysteries. I am 
thankful to say that I have. My father went 
out to walk last Sunday, and before he got 
back to the house, he had answered a good 
many questions. 

11 I have found out something I always 
wanted to know — what makes the soapsuds 
on the grass stems. Ted said it was snake 
spit, but I didn't believe it, because I have seen 
it up high on the willow trees. Uncle Reuben 
told me it was cow spit ; but I knew it couldn't 
be, because it was all over the meadow weeds, 
where our cows never went. Anyway, our 
cows don't spit, if his do. I have watched 
them to find out. 

" All the soapsuds you ever saw on stems is 
made by a little green, speckled insect. It 
sucks the juices out of the plant on which it 
lives, so fast that the juice comes right through 
its body, all over, in the form of little bubbles. 
My father told me so. Besides that, I saw the 
little insects ; we poked away the soapsuds and 
found them at work. 

" They were hatched in the summer from 






304 WHAT GLADYS SAW 

eggs that were laid the autumn before. Papa 
called them frog-hoppers. They don't live 
underneath the bubbles when they are full 
grown and have changed their clothes for the 
last time. 

" One evening we left the outside door open 
to see if any of them would be attracted by the 
light and fly in. Sure enough one did, and I 
had a chance to see it, though I couldn't catch 
it because it was such a jumper. The little 
things are bright green ; I have often seen them 
before, only I didn't know their names nor 
where they came from. 

" All my life I have wondered about the 
oak balls we have seen at home in the parks, 
and here the willows by the river are decorated 
with all sorts of bright trimming that look like 
berries. Now I understand what causes these 
things. 

" Insects, known as gall flies, live in these 
lovely places, when they are babies. The 
mother gall fly finds a leaf or a stem that suits 
her, and in which she stings a little hole. In 
this little hole she lays her eggs. Something 
she drops into the punctured leaf or stem 
causes the curious growth about the egg. So 



GLADYS WRITES TO HER GRANDFATHER 305 

inside of every oak ball we see, there are gall 
fly's eggs, in which the little gall fly folks are 
waiting to hatch. After they are out of their 
shells they cut little holes through the ball and 
fly away. I am not going to bring any more 
decorated oak branches into the house. I am 
like Aunt Rebecca about that. No insects in 
the house for me, thank you, except our 
cricket, and Aunt Rebecca says if he ever 
gets a taste of my clothes, I will be sorry he 
is alive. 

" If I try to tell you all the wonders of this 
farm, I wall never get this letter finished, 
grandpa, and I have been writing on it three 
days now, all the time I can spare. 

" It is hard to tell which month is the pleas- 
antest here. It is lucky I am beginning to love 
Aunt Rebecca a great deal, and Jane and the 
school-teacher, or I don't know what I would 
do without mamma. 

" The robin has gone away from the orchard, 
and the empty nest outside my window seems 
lonesomer than ever. 

" Before I came home mamma promised me 
that if papa or I should be taken sick, she 
would come quick as she could get here ; but I 



306 



WHAT GLADYS SAW 



am sorry to say we are both all right. It is 
discouraging, but we can't help it ; so I guess 
we will have to get along without her. 

" Gladys Birney. 

" P.S. Write soon. — G. B." 






CHAPTER XXXVIII 




THE RED SQUIRREL ON SATURDAY 

ERHAPS, Mr. Squirrel, you think 
I don't know anything, but, you 
see, we took you in school this 
week, and I thought I would 
come out here and hunt you up." 
The squirrel looked anxiously at Gladys for 
a few moments, then scampered up the trunk 
of a tree, and seating himself upon a limb, 
laughed at her ; worse than that, he snickered. 
The more he thought of it, the more ridiculous 
it seemed that any squirrel should fear her. 

" Now I would like to know, mister, if yon 
are the same red squirrel I have seen in the 
orchard lately/' 

The squirrel held his sides as though unable 
to contain his mirth as he listened. 

"You are such a pretty dear, I am sure it 
must have been you I saw only yesterday on 
the fence, eating apple seeds. My father says 

307 



308 WHAT GLADYS SAW 

you come to the barn in the winter time and 
help yourself to anything you want." 

This accusation was too much for the red 
squirrel ; he talked back, chattered, scolded, 
said anything he pleased. And it was Gladys's 
turn to laugh. 

" Why don't your folks learn a lesson from 
the chipmunks ? Think how much more com- 
fortable you would be all winter long in a nice, 
snug burrow in the ground, that was stored 
with nuts and all kinds of food." 

The red squirrel plainly said to Gladys, 
" Mind your business," but he seemed good 
natured, even as he made the remark. 

" Now don't be saucy, Mr. Red Squirrel. 
You ought to be willing to let me give you a 
little advice, for it was my idea to have your 
folks the subject for the Band of Mercy meet- 
ing yesterday afternoon. The teacher got the 
boys so interested in you that they won't throw 
stones at you any more, the way they used to." 

The squirrel looked anxiously about. There 
wasn't a boy in sight. He was so thankful he 
danced a jig then and there to strange music of 
his own. 

11 If you would store food away in regular 



THE RED SQUIRREL ON SATURDAY 309 

fashion, you wouldn't have to scurry out in cold 
weather, and be glad to get the seeds of frozen 
apples to keep yourself from starving. Hon- 
estly, Mr. Squirrel, I think you ought to let 
the sugar-apples alone. The boys say you 
strip the bark in order to eat the part of the 
tree between the bark and the wood. I should 
think that you would spoil the trees. I don't 
blame you a bit for getting a taste of maple 
syrup in the spring. I would try the same 
trick if my teeth were sharp enough, but we 
can't all be squirrels." 

Gayly the little fellow darted from branch 
to branch as though purposely displaying his 
nimble feet and that wonderful tail, his crown- 
ing glory. 

11 Maybe, Mr. Squirrel, you know what is 
best for your own family, and if you like to 
hide a few nuts on the ground in different 
places and tuck them away in the trees, per- 
haps it is just as well. You never have to 
worry for fear your storehouses will be robbed, 
and you have something to think about, too. 

11 How I wish I knew as much as you do 
about some things ! How can you always tell 
on which side of the butternut to find the 



310 WHAT GLADYS SAW 

meat ? I smash butternuts all to pieces because 
I don't know where to crack them. There 
isn't any sign on the outside the way there is 
on hickory nuts, and yet they say you never 
make a mistake. 

" Then, too, how do you know toad-stools 
from the kind of mushrooms we are to eat ? " 

The squirrel answered Gladys, but she 
couldn't understand his chatter. 

" You have to carry everything in your 
teeth, don't you ? " she continued. " If you 
only had pockets in your cheeks the way some 
folks do, how much easier it would be for you 
to collect nuts. 

11 Where is your nest, Mr. Squirrel ? I would 
so like to see just your front door. I wouldn't 
think of going in your house." 

The mere suggestion of such a thing was too 
much for the red squirrel ; he scampered into 
the deep woods, where he scolded from afar. 

" I would like to see a gray squirrel," Gladys 
remarked to the air. " They are said to be so 
graceful and daring. Maybe if I come out 
here every Saturday, I will catch a glimpse of 
one. I read in a book that their home is way 
up in the trunk of a tree, and that they make 




THE RED SQUIRREL ON SATURDAY 311 

a summer home in the branches, something 
like a bird's nest. I. wish I had coaxed papa 
to come out here with me. 

" Oh, I guess this will be a good place 
to study my new thinking-corner quotation. 
What a queer man my father is, anyway. He 
has made me commit something to memory 
every week since I came home. I am sure I 
put that paper in my pocket. 

11 Oh, it's copied from the Bible." 

Seated upon a log, Gladys slowly read the 
quotation : — 

" ' There be four things which are little upon the earth, 
But they are exceeding wise : 

" ' The ants are a people not strong, yet they prepare 
their meat in the summer; 

" ' The conies are but a feeble folk, yet make they their 
houses in the rocks ; 

"'The locusts have no king, yet go they forth, all of 
them, by bands ; 

" ' The spider taketh hold with her hands, and is in kings' 
palaces.' " 

The beauty of the lesson impressed Gladys. 
She sat thinking of it, forgetful of the woods, 



312 WHAT GLADYS SAW 

until she suddenly observed the red squirrel 
gazing intently upon her from his old perch. 

The late afternoon sunshine touched the 
trees with a magic glow, causing a mellow, 
soft light through the changing foliage. The 
forest seemed holding its breath. 

" Something is going to happen," said Gladys, 
solemnly. " Surely the summer is ended. Next 
Saturday when I come out here, everything will 
be changed." 

A feeling of utter loneliness stole over the 
child ; she leaned her face on the log and cried 
— cried for the mother she missed. 

A bright red leaf from a maple fluttered 
downward and touched the golden head. 
When Gladys finally noticed it, lying among 
the twigs, she accepted it as a gift from the 
tree. That made the squirrel laugh; and who 
can resist the influence of a mocking red squir- 
rel when he tries to be funny. Gladys smiled 
through her tears. 

The next moment the red squirrel left with- 
out ceremony ; he saw Ted Bennet coming and 
didn't want to stay any longer. That squirrel 
was troubled either with memory or imagina- 
tion. He was gone before Gladys could say 
" good-by " to him. 



CHAPTER XXXIX 

THE WAY HOME 

ILADYS marvelled at Ted Bennet's 
smile. 

11 Don't look at the violets, Ted," 
she called, u or they'll think it's 
spring and begin to blossom." 
" You'd smile, too, if you knew," retorted the 
boy, approaching by leaps and bounds. 
" Why, what's the matter ? " 
" Oh, nothin', I'm just happy." 
" What's happened ? " 
" Nothin'." 

" Well, don't stand there grinning like that if 
you don't want me to laugh at you." 

" I don't care how much you laugh ; come on 
home." 

" Oh, I am not in any hurry. I never saw 
the woods look so beautiful, and I like to stay 
here. It seems a little like being in a great, 
still church with the light shining through 
stained glass windows." 

3X3 



314 WHAT GLADYS SAW 

" Come on, Gladys." 
"What for?" 

" Your father sent me after you." 

" Why didn't you say so before ? That's 
different." 

" Walk lively." 

11 Ted Bennet, what ails you ? " 

" The faster you walk, the sooner you'll 
know." 

The two children laughed at each other, 
then walked a short distance in silence. 

11 Why don't you talk, Ted ? " 

" Why don't you ? " 

" Well, what other animals live on our farm 
besides the squirrels ? " 

" Oh, skunks." 

"Who else?" 

" Rabbits." 

M Any others ? " 

" Foxes and weasels." 

" Do we own any porcupines ? " 

11 Yes, bushels of them." 

" Tell me some more." 

" Oh, muskrats and mink. I can show you 
all kinds of animal tracks in the winter. You 
can see them everywhere in the snow." 



THE WAY HOME 315 

" Do you know what animal makes every 
track you see ? " 

11 Well, I guess I ought to ; I've followed up 
enough of them." 

" Who goes with you ? " 

" Nobody." 

" You'll take me this winter, won't you ? " 

Ted shook his head without endangering 
his smile in the least ; that seemed permanent 
— grew deeper and broader, if anything. 

" Why not, Ted Bennet ? " 

" You won't want to go." 

" I will, too ; you know I will." 

" Say, Gladys Birney, if you don't stop pick- 
ing flowers and come along, you'll be sorry." 

" Oh, Ted, it doesn't take but a minute to 
pick a bunch of wild asters. Do you know," 
she continued, " that I have been wondering 
what is going to become of us all when we are 
grown up ? " 

Ted laughed aloud. 

" I can tell you something that's sure to 
come true before you grow up." 

" Tell me, then." 

11 Give a guess." 

" Can't. What's it about ? " 



316 WHAT GLADYS SAW 

" Oh, Thanksgiving Day, maybe." 

" Are we all going somewhere ? " 

" Nope ; guess again." 

"Can't."" 

" Well, I'll help you. Your folks are goin' 
to have company." 

" Oh, mamma ! Will it be mamma, Ted ? " 

" Nope ; she won't be company. It will be 
impossible for her to come." 

" Then I don't care what your old secret 
is." 

Ted rejoiced, boy fashion, when he saw 
Gladys wink back the tears. 

" You couldn't guess in a month of Sundays," 
he went on, "so I'll tell you. Your brothers 
are coming." 

" How do you know ? " 

" Your father told me." 

"Why didn't he tell me?" 

" Didn't know it himself when he saw you 
last. Your grandfather and grandmother are 
coming too." 

" And isn't my mother coming with them ? " 
cried Gladys, beginning to walk fast. 

" Nope ; she can't do it." 

"I think that's a queer thing!" The tears 






THE WAY HOME 317 

would come ; all the winking in the world 
wouldn't keep them back. 

11 Queer, but true/' mocked Ted, who divided 
honors with the Blue Jay in love of teasing. 

Gladys flew over the ground. Not another 
word did she say to Ted for five minutes. 

The way home seemed so long. 

Ted ran by her side, still smiling, knowing 
full well that the question Gladys had in her 
mind would never be asked. Yet he did love 
to tease. 

How little Ted dreamed of the changes the 
years would bring — when Gladys had taken 
her place in the world, and he, a noted natural- 
ist, would hold vast audiences spellbound, by 
his wonderful imitation of birds' songs. 

There was nothing to whisper of Nora's fame 
as an artist and no visible promise of the ulti- 
mate destiny of the four little Bennets, who one 
and all lived up to their names, Jacob, Samuel, 
James, and Thomas, becoming useful citizens, 
every one. 

The sunlight rested like a benediction upon 
the old farm-house. 

The apple tree with its empty nest seemed 
transfigured by the golden glory of its last rays. 



318 



WHAT GLADYS SAW 



Gladys checked her headlong speed, and a 
look of awe stole over the face of Ted. 

" Reminds me of the end of the world," 
whispered Gladys, " look — the river is changed 
to gold." 

Then did Ted make the first intentionally 
sentimental remark of his life. 

" It ought to make you think of the begin- 
ning of Heaven/' he said. 

At that moment, the door was thrown open, 
and Gladys understood. Another instant and 
she was clasped in her mother's arms. 

Ted went home, whistling the robin's song 
of cheer. 



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